


Cookies and Firewhiskey

by Angelic_Disaster



Series: Hogwarts AU [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Crowley-centric (Good Omens), Developing Relationship, Emotional Manipulation, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hufflepuff Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Memory Alteration, Multi, Non-Graphic Smut, Non-Graphic Violence, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Students, Tags Contain Spoilers, This is a wholesome AU until it isn't anymore, Toxic Relationship, Warnings May Change, non-con elements, when i say slow burn i mean it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 65,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23608441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelic_Disaster/pseuds/Angelic_Disaster
Summary: ALTERNATE UNIVERSE - HOGWARTSCrowley couldn't understand how, for so many years, he had considered Lucifer his best friend when Aziraphale was right there at his side.Or: How Lucifer becomes Satan and is ready to take Crowley with him, voluntarily or not.Welcome to my very self-indulgent Hogwarts AU, in which Aziraphale and Crowley get to be good friends and drink cocoa in the Great Hall, until everything goes to shit.(NOT a crossover)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Hogwarts AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821274
Comments: 58
Kudos: 78





	1. Angel wings

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter fic. Just as the Harry Potter books and movies get darker and darker with the passage of time, so will this fic. Ratings may change, and trigger warnings will be added to every chapter that needs them, and more tags will be added later.
> 
> I made a compilation of a lot of my headcanons here; the first one is that Crowley was Raphael, but it doesn't do that much for the plot. Also, I have the headcanon that Crowley could do just as well in Slytherin as in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, but this is a Ravenclaw!Crowley.
> 
> For a couple of chapters Crowley will be Crawley, but that will change later.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this. I hope you will like it as much as I did.
> 
> Nothing else to add, enjoy!

Raphael Anthony Crawley was a pureblood boy from a well-positioned household. His father worked at the ministry; his mother was an Auror. They were good people; they had tried to raise their son without prejudices. When his Hogwarts letter came he was full of questions, and his parents decided it was better for him to not know which houses they had been in. They believed that if they didn’t tell their son about the Hogwarts houses he would have an open mind and wouldn’t have any preconceptions about them.

They did a good job raising young Raphael. He was a curious boy, always asking questions. _“Why_ _does water slide off a duck’s back?_ _Do ducks have ears? How can_ _they_ _understand each other if they don’t have ears?”_ From the moment he started talking they knew which house he was going to be in. They also knew that when he finally got to Hogwarts they were going to continually receive letters from his teachers telling them about the trouble he was getting into. But they were not prepared for the heartbreaking letters they received in Crawley’s sixth and seventh years. Neither of them were prepared for his relationship with _him_.

_ Him  _ was Lucifer Morningstar. Lucifer Morningstar was the only son of the Morningstar family. His father was rich and well-known in the Ministry, and also for being an anti-muggle politician. Everybody knew the Morningstar father and son, even Crawley. All pureblood families knew each other. The Crawley s were n’t as important as the Morningstar s , but family importance doesn’t stop kids from being friends. Lucifer was a  child  with bright lilac eyes and light brown hair; he walked with the posture of a prince and cursed with the vocabulary of a sailor. His father, and everybody around him, had big expectations for him.  The first was to be a Slytherin. 

Lucifer Morningstar recognized the redheaded kid in the train; Mrs. Crawley had eaten at the Morningstar house a few times and twice she had brought her son. The first time Crawley had played with him, Lucifer decided that when they were in Hogwarts they were going to be friends. Lucifer needed a partner in crime at his house one day to move the chairs around and play a prank on his father, and Crawley had helped him. Crawley had proven to be a great accomplice that day.

“You are going to be my best friend.” As soon as Lucifer had seen  Crawley on the train he grabbed him by the arm. Crawley was perfectly okay with it . Several  hours in the train were enough  for the two boys to  become firm friends. Lucifer explained to Crawley the Hogwarts houses;  he found it unbelievable  that the other kid didn’t know anything about them. Crawley had so many questions, and Lucifer had answers to all of them.

“I’m going to be in  S lytherin, the best one. Slytherin is the coolest house; it represents ambition, power and determination.” You couldn’t exactly  _ choose _ which house to be in, but Lucifer of course was going to be a  S lytherin. “Gryffindor is for  dummies ; they act before thinking. And Hufflepuff is for the weak, for people without ambition,” Lucifer had explained and Crawley nodded.

“Slytherin is the best house, but my father always said that we, the  Sl ytherin students, should respect the Ravenclaw house. We never know when their intelligence will come in handy.” Crawley was fascinated with Lucifer and all the things he knew. Lucifer had been studying magic before even he could walk straight. Crawley admired him, and Lucifer loved it. Crawley suddenly wanted to be a  S lytherin.

In the Great Hall Lucifer went before him; the Sorting Hat didn’t need to  sit on his head for more than a few seconds and it shouted “Slytherin” in a flash. The  S lytherin table was already cheering before the hat had the opportunity to shout.

Crawley went  next.  “I want to be in  S lytherin,”  he whispered to the hat.

“Hmmm? Slytherin you say?” the Hat whispered back. “No, kid. You have good qualities: curiosity, imagination, individuality; you  would  be a very good  R avenclaw. If you don’t want to, you also have the heart of a Hufflepuff. You  could be a good  H ufflepuff, yes, an odd one, but a good one at least.”

“No, please don’t put me in Hufflepuff. I want to be a Slytherin. Please.”

“Look kid, I’m doing you a favour not putting you in Slytherin.” The Sorting Hat had the patience and personality of an old man who didn’t like children. “You are not going to be happy there. If you want to choose your house, then choose: Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff? Well, speak, what are you going to be?”

“Ravenclaw,” Crawley whispered, defeated. “RAVENCLAW!” the Sorting Hat shouted. Everyone was incredulous  at how much time the hat took to choose his house.

“That stupid hat. I mean, look at my surname “Crawley” like a crawling snake. I should have been in Slytherin.” Crawley was throwing rocks at the lake with Lucifer, both of them were  irritated.

“What exactly did it say?”

“It said that I could be a Slytherin but I would be better in Ravenclaw.” Of course Crawley lied; he would never tell Lucifer about the Hufflepuff part; it was embarrassing.

“Well my father always said that every Slytherin who respects himself needs a good Ravenclaw friend. So now you are officially my best friend.” Crawley smiled “And also, you are right. Your name is perfect for a snake. If you can’t be an official one, you will be one by name. From this day forward I will call you Crawley, honou rary member of the Slytherin House.”

“Cool.”

During his first year Crawley  wore the Ravenclaw uniform, used the Ravenclaw Common Room  and took  his classes with Ravenclaw students, like any other Ravenclaw student. But he was hanging  out  with Lucifer every day, and eating at the Slytherin table every day as well.

By second year things became an absolute mess. Lucifer and Crawley were already known as troublemakers. The first day of second year Lucifer had a new uniform that his father had bought him. He had a bright idea: give the old one to Crawley, who then started alternating his Ravenclaw uniform with the Slytherin one. The teachers weren’t happy.With all the students they had to teach and with Crawley’s constant change of uniforms, the teachers couldn't keep up and were taking and giving points between both houses because they couldn't remember which one he was in.

The director had a long talk with him.

The director was a good woman. She had seen Crawley and Lucifer in her office enough times to be softened by the two boys’ friendship. She tried to not show favoritism, but she gave Crawley permission to keep wearing the Slytherin uniform if he wanted, with the condition that he could only wear it in the common spaces of the castle. He needed to take his classes wearing the Ravenclaw uniform and only use the Ravenclaw Common Room. She didn’t say anything about all the mischief he had made in school over the last two years. After that, the teachers had no more trouble knowing who he was and that he was a Ravenclaw student.

Crawley had entered the director’s office frightened, worried that she would treat him harshly, but he was relieved by her kindness. He walked out reassured and ran to Lucifer to tell him the good news.

Finding Raphael A. Crawley alone, not surrounded by the Hell Gang of Slytherin, was something that rarely happened. Every Tuesday at 5 pm Beatrice, a fourth year Slytherin, (Beel to the other Slytherin students) would be found taking an advanced potions class. Dagon, also a fourth year Slytherin, would be in the Quidditch pitch as would every other respectable member of the team. Lucifer Morningstar, now in his third year, would be in the Dueling Club, probably winning against some poor fifth year student who didn’t take him seriously enough. Hastur and Ligur, also Slytherin students (both from third year) would probably be making mischief somewhere in the castle.

But where young Crawley could be found at that time was a mystery. If you really wished to talk to him, first you would have to find him. Was he in the Astronomy Tower? The Ravenclaw Common Room? In the Dueling Club, cheering for Lucifer? The Great Hall? The Library? The fields? Only Merlin knew. You had only two hours until the gang was back together and then you had to wait until next week.

Aziraphale Fell,  a second year student, asked some of his friends from third year for help with the plant for his Herbology class. They didn’t know very much about herbology, so they  suggested that he ask  a friend of theirs, Michael, also from third year, a Ravenclaw. Michael looked at Aziraphale with the expression of someone who  was smelling rotten meat. Adjusting her glasses over her sharp nose, she  told  Aziraphale  to look  for someone more suitable to help him: Raphael Crawley, third year. She said, “I don’t know where he is. He has the best grades in Herbology, but don’t talk to him if he is with Slytherin students because they’re going to ignore you or kick you out. Why? Because you’re a Hufflepuff; that’s how the Slytherin gang is. If you  recognize Lucifer Morningstar , keep away from him.  Now leave me alone.”

“Excuse me. Are you Raphael Crawley?” Aziraphale finally found the redheaded Ravenclaw, dressed as a Slytherin in the library, just before closing time.

“Yes, who are you?” Crawley looked at the chubby and nervous Hufflepuff before him.

“My name is Aziraphale, I’m from Hufflepuff, second year.” Aziraphale, Hufflepuff second year student, had dove-like blond hair and bright blue eyes. Before Crawley could ask him what  he needed, Aziraphale blurted  out, “My plant is dying and Michael from Ravenclaw said you could help me.”  With every word the chubby boy sounded more and more distressed . “I don’t know anyone else to ask. The teacher said, ‘use the book,’ but I used it and the plant doesn’t seem to get better. I can’t fail my first project, plea– ” 

Aziraphale stopped mid-sentence because the rest of the students in the library shushed him. Crawley sighed. Michael didn’t want to help the poor kid so she  sent him  to him. Now he was dealing with a Hufflepuff student in the middle of a nervous breakdown.

“Sure, I have time. Show it to me.” 

They left the library and went to the Hufflepuff Common Room so Aziraphale could grab the plant and take it outside to show Crawley.

“At least you are giving the plant enough water,”  Crawley said sarcastically, looking at a pot with an “angel wings”  plant in it. Aziraphale was  definitely watering it, maybe too much. In second year, Professor Sprout handed every student a little plant, not necessarily a magical one, for them to keep alive. Usually no one failed, but this plant was barely holding on to life.

“ You know that plants also need to eat? You can’t just whisper nice things to them and expect them to  grow better . They need water but also sun, food and discipline. Meet me tomorrow at 7 am at the Astronomy Tower and I will give you some fertilizer.” 

“Thank you so much!”

“But don’t say a word. I’m not going to help  every  Hufflepuff kid. I’m just making an exception for this poor plant. I don’t want a horde of students following me begging for help.”

“I know, I know. Thank you so much again Crawley. You are an angel!” 

“No! I’m not, shut up!”


	2. Firewhiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the second chapter, featuring Crowley and Lucifer Third and first part of their Fourth year, and a lot of Hogwarts professors having to deal with the Hell Gang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW:  
> 1\. Mentions of alcohol usage by teenagers. I'm legally obliged to say: don't do this at home.  
> 2\. Spanking mentioned, not described.   
> 3\. For all emetophobes: use of the V word. (Just once) and light description during the truth or dare scene. Don't worry, I will mark it.
> 
> Also: They/Them pronouns for Beelzebub
> 
> Nothing else to add, enjoy!

There wasn’t exactly a reason why Aziraphale and Crawley started to hang out, it sort of just happened. After finishing the angel wings project with an excellent grade, Aziraphale bought Crawley a little present to thank him: a bag of cookies. They were Aziraphale’s favourites and he was hoping Crawley liked them. Crawley wasn’t really a big fan of sweets but he thanked him anyway and they ate them in the Astronomy Tower together. Later, the Astronomy Tower became their favourite meeting place.

They didn’t share any classes, being in different years, nor a common room. Crawley continued to use the Ravenclaw Common Room as a Ravenclaw student. In midyear he also started to use the Slytherin Common Room sometimes. Since Lucifer made sure to beat (or come close to beating) every important older Slytherin in the Dueling Club, it granted him popularity and power; and with power came the opportunity to sneak his best friend into the Common Room. _“But only sometimes, and make sure there are no teachers around,”_ the older Slytherin students said. 

What Crawley shared with Aziraphale were only common spaces of the Castle such as the corridors, the fields or the Great Hall. Aziraphale was so kind and always happy to see him. If Crawley wasn’t alone Aziraphale would just smile at him from a distance or wave at him if he felt brave enough. But when Lucifer or the rest weren’t around, Aziraphale always made sure to come to him and say hi, ask about his day and share cookies with him. Crawley even visited Aziraphale’s home during summer break, and a week didn’t go by without Crawley sending him a letter. 

  
  


In his fourth year, Crawley asked Aziraphale, “Why don’t you come say hi to me when I’m with Lucifer? He is not that bad you know? There’s no reason not to just come and say hi.”

Lucifer Morningstar and his gang could be mean, and they only liked to hang out with other Slytherins and the Slytherin honorary member, Crawley. Lucifer had a constant aura of menace. He seemed to look at others as though saying, _“Get down and kneel, you dirty peasants.”_ He was known as a promising member of the Dueling Club, as well as of Slytherin house. He could also beat you in a fair Muggle fight too, without using any magical powers, if he wanted.

Was coming to say hi to Crawley when he was with the Hell Gang really that bad? thought Aziraphale. The answer was yes. He wanted to avoid conflict.

“I just don’t want to create an uncomfortable situation for you, Crawley. Everybody knows that Lucifer isn’t fond of Hufflepuffs. Or Gryffindors. Or Ravenclaws.” Aziraphale said, when they were having a little picnic in the Astronomy Tower at 11 pm. It was an unusual hour to have a picnic, no doubt, but Crawley liked talking about the constellations. When he changed the topic abruptly to Lucifer, Aziraphale tried to avoid it. 

“You know that I am not a Slytherin, right?” Aziraphale, in fact, knew. Michael had told him long ago, but he didn’t say a word. He only looked sarcastically at Crawley up and down, gesturing with his head at the green and silver scarf, the green and silver tie, the green and silver snake on his cloak.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Lucifer gave me his old uniform, so what? I am not a Slytherin and he hangs out with me anyway. I’m even his best friend.” 

Aziraphale wanted to say, _ “Yeah, he likes you, that's why he desperately needs to make you look like one so he can still hang out with you.”_ Instead he took a bite of an apple pie he brought from the kitchen and said, “I knew you were too kind to be a Slytherin.”

Crawley rolled his eyes. He hated the stigma of the Slytherins being considered the only house that had evil or hateful people. Gryffindor had bullies, as well as Ravenclaw. Even Hufflepuff House had its problematic students. But it was always the Slytherins who were known as the bad boys.

“You also should know that ‘Slytherin’ is not equal to evil. It means ambition and determination. Those are good qualities, not bad,” Crawley said, a little bit angry but also a bit tired. Aziraphale smiled apologetically, using his best puppy dog eyes. Crawley couldn’t be angry at his friend for more than three seconds.

“So which house are you in then?” Most students who hadn’t paid attention to Crawley in his second year thought he really was a Slytherin. Aziraphale knew the answer to that question, but he wanted Crawley to say it out loud. Why? Because to Aziraphale, Crawley was the most amazing, intelligent and funny person in the world. He was proud to be Crawley’s friend, he was proud of every bit of him. He wanted Crawley to be proud of himself too. 

“Take a guess.”

“Well, now that you ask,” Aziraphale sighed; one day maybe he could drag Crawley out of the snake pit but it wasn’t today, “Five minutes ago you were ranting about stars because I mis-pronounced the name of a constellation so I will take a chance and assume Ravenclaw.” 

“You’ve got it,” Crawley said, grinning. He wasn’t embarrassed about his house at all and Aziraphale smiled. 

“It is a good house; it’s qualities are intelligence, creativity and curiosity. Why don’t you like it?” 

“It’s not that I don’t, but I asked the sorting hat to put me in Slytherin, and it didn’t, and I’m taking revenge. A Slytherin trait if you ask me, determination: I wanted it; I got it,” he said, proud of himself. Aziraphale in that moment had a revelation: maybe, just maybe, Crawley  _ could  _ be a Slytherin. Aziraphale thought that Crawley was as cunning as a Slytherin, and had the intelligence and creativity of a Ravenclaw. He was sure that deep down Crawley also had the kind heart of a Hufflepuff. Aziraphale also knew that Crawley was loyal to Lucifer as only a Gryffindor could be. To Aziraphale, Lucifer was far from being a good person. Aziraphale was scared that Crawley's loyalty to Lucifer could develop into something very dangerous in the future.

“Sure.” Aziraphale smiled. “Now, would you honour me by being your true Ravenclaw self and continue your rant about the Andromeda Galaxy? It was truly interesting and I was enjoying myself.” 

“It will be my pleasure.” 

  
  


“The hell are you doing, Crawley?” Lucifer asked as soon as he saw his friend walk in. It was the first time since Lucifer gave him his old uniform that Crawley appeared in front of him dressed in his own Ravenclaw clothes. 

“I... Well I just thought I could do it sometimes? To mess with the teachers?” Crawley said, less confident about his decision. After the picnic with Aziraphale he couldn’t stop thinking about houses. He was as proud to be a Ravenclaw as he was to be a Slytherin honorary member .  “I don’t like to pretend I’m something I’m not.” Crawley said finally, looking at the floor.

With a wave of Lucifer’s wand he was dressed again in Slytherin clothes. 

“You’re not pretending, Crawley, you are as Slytherin as I am. You’re a proud member of the respected Slytherin house. The sorting hat can’t decide for you.” Lucifer said, while he adjusted the scarf on Crawley’s neck. Lucifer was always severe when he didn’t like something; he sounded more like a strict father than a friend. “Green suits you better than blue, it goes well with your hair,” he said, smiling, in a more playful way. Crawley hid his face in the scarf. Lucifer’s cologne permeated it; the scarf was the one Lucifer was wearing this cold morning, not the old one that he gave Crawley in second year. Lucifer made sure Crawley kept the new one too. 

  
  


“Do you know everything would be a lot easier for you if you weren’t a trouble maker?” Aziraphale asked while rearranging some books. The first day of his third year he asked the school librarian if he could help her. She said no the first time, and the second, and the third. But the fifth time Aziraphale asked to be a junior librarian she gave in. Now it was November and Aziraphale was indispensable in the library. 

“Come on angel, my pranks are harmless, and anyway your literal job is to lend me books.” Three weeks ago Crawley started calling Aziraphale  _ angel _ as a joke. Aziraphale always talked more like a gay old uncle who probably owns a bookshop than like a third year student; and he was always trying his hardest to be polite and pure; so angel was his new pet name. He hadn’t minded, and that was good because Crawley refused to call him by any other name. 

“Which book did you say you needed? I think I can manage to get it even if it is from the restricted section. But you’ll have to be careful.” 

“Yo, I fucking adore you.”

“Language, dear! For Merlin’s sake.” 

  
  


**Monday**

Aziraphale fidgeted with his ring for a couple of minutes looking at the recently rearranged books. Of course Crawley would get up to some mischief with that book. If Aziraphale asked Madam Pince for the book for him, Aziraphale would be breaking the rules or, at least, contributing to it. No, he would not ask Madam Pince for the book. 

**Tuesday**

Thinking about it, if Aziraphale managed to ask Madam Pince for the book he would be contributing to Crawley breaking the rules, but  _ fewer _ rules than if Aziraphale didn't ask for it . Would Crawley be foolish enough to do something stupid like breaking into the restricted section during the night and stealing the book if Aziraphale wouldn’t get it? That, in addition to the mischief he would make with the book would make a total of three rules broken: breaking into the library, stealing a book and making mischief.

Instead, if Aziraphale managed to get the book, it would make only one rule broken: making mischief. 

He approached Madam Pince reassured. 

“Madam Pince!” Aziraphale shouted in his nervousness. 

"Yes Aziraphale?" 

"I - I wanted to ask if...." Madam Pince made a nod, gesturing to him to continue. "If there is something else I could do for you before going to class?" 

"Oh, nothing else dear. Go ahead if you want." 

**Thursday**

Aziraphale took a deep breath and walked towards Madam Pince. Two steps in her direction later he turned around. He repeated the same motion a total of five times. Breathe, walk, turn. Repeat. He kept fidgeting and fidgeting with the ring on his pinkie as if that could give him the courage to break the rules.

 _Technically_ he wasn't breaking any rules. Aziraphale had already asked Madam Pince to lend him books that she would have never lent to any other student. Aziraphale had already read books (two to be specific) from the restricted section that Madam Pince had loaned him without a second thought. He liked prophecy books a lot. It wasn't even against the rules for a student to read a book from the restricted section. The thing was that Aziraphale was going to _lie_. 

Madam Pince probably wouldn't even question why Aziraphale wanted a potions book way too advanced for him. She didn't really care what he would do with it because he was Aziraphale. What kind of damage could Aziraphale do? Nothing, he was one of the best behaved students of Hogwarts and he had her absolute trust. But other students, especially that little gang from Slytherin, were an absolute NO for her. That's why Aziraphale was so nervous. If he asked for that book he would be betraying her trust. 

He wanted, really wanted, to help Crawley, especially because that would mean Crawley wouldn't break rules. And Aziraphale would lie for Crawley, of course he would, in any other situation. Now he was feeling so guilty, and Merlin knew he was so bad at lying too. 

**Friday**

One week and three days after Crawley asked him for the book he said, "Hey, Aziraphale, do you remember the book I asked you for?" and Aziraphale nearly dropped his cocoa. 

"Oh, sorry. Yes, of course I remember. How could I forget? Haha." Crawley raised an eyebrow, Aziraphale's voice was as high pitched as any other thirteen year old boy, but it suddenly got  _ really _ high pitched. "I'm sorry, I've been a little busy. And you know how strict Madam Pince is. I'm waiting for her to get in a good mood." 

"Oh, great. Take your time. Thank you again angel." 

"No problem, dear boy." 

**Tuesday**

Breathe, walk, turn, fidget with the ring. Repeat.

Breathe, walk, turn, fidget with the ring. Repeat.

Breathe, walk, turn, fidget with the ring. Repeat.

Aziraphale was having a crisis. The book was too advanced for Crawley. No more advanced as it was for Aziraphale, but advanced nonetheless. Crawley had asked him for the book, but he didn't specify why he wanted it. Was it for something dangerous? No, it couldn't be. Crawley wouldn't make something that could result in someone getting hurt. On the other hand, Lucifer…

No. Crawley wouldn't ask Aziraphale for a book for Lucifer. 

**Thursday**

On Monday Aziraphale had said "I'll ask tomorrow."

On Tuesday Aziraphale had said "I'll ask tomorrow."

On Wednesday Aziraphale had said "I'll ask tomorrow."

On Thursday Crawley didn't say a word to Aziraphale about the book, but Aziraphale knew that he was thinking about it.

**Friday**

Crawley asked Aziraphale again if he had forgotten about the book. Aziraphale assured him that he would ask Madam Pince tomorrow for it. 

"Tomorrow is Sunday.”

"Then, I will ask her on Monday." 

"Alright."

_ "Madam Pince, if it’s not too much to ask for, would you mind lending me a book? You see, I know it is too advanced for me, and I know I haven’t shown much interest in potions. But I was thinking that it would help me to become more interested… “  _ What am I saying? No.  _ “Hello Madam Pince, I was thinking” _ ... no...  _ “I would like to ask…”  _ No.  _ “Oh Merlin, I can't do this.” _ Aziraphale practiced his speech, nervously walking through the bookshelves, unable to decide on the best way to phrase it.

  
  


“Why do I have to be the one doing this?” Eric was the youngest of the group, maybe that’s why he always got dragged by Crawley and Lucifer into making some mischief. “Why can't Lucifer do it?”

“Because, if the librarian sees Crawley and me together she won't leave us alone." Lucifer said. He and Crawley were well known for causing trouble. There were three professors that always had them in sight when the two were together: Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape and Madam Pince, the librarian. 

“Why don't you ask Beel or Dagon?” Eric asked. He was a third year Slytherin. He just appeared one day, made fun of Lucifer by accident, (he didn’t even know who Lucifer was or that he shouldn’t make fun of him) and they adopted him as the group pet in an instant. Lucifer wasn’t happy at first, much less when the entire gang laughed at him, but he admired the guts of the boy. 

“This is a surprise for Beel. Aren't you listening to us?” Lucifer said, tired. “And Dagon is too much of a rule follower. She'll try to convince us to not do it.”

“And why aren't Hastur or Ligur here too?” Lucifer groaned. It always took a lot of time to convince Eric. His task wasn’t even that hard; just enter, ask for a book and talk to the librarian for a couple of minutes. 

“Because we like you more.” Crawley said resting one arm over Eric’s shoulders. “Come on! Wait  for me there and I'll give you the signal. It's easy.” Eric looked at Lucifer, waiting for a signal. Lucifer nodded.

“Sure,” Eric sighed, defeated, entering the library. How hard could it be? 

After Eric left, Lucifer said to Crawley, “You know, it would be a lot easier if Ligur or Hastur were here with us instead of Eric. He is not that bright.” 

“Yeah, but Hastur and Ligur don't exactly like me.” 

“No. But I do, and that's enough. And they’ll surely be down with this.” 

“Yeah, but I don't like them that much either.” Crawley liked Lucifer, and Dagon, and Beelzebub. He even liked Eric. But as sometimes happens in a group of friends you can’t just be  _ best friends _ with everybody. Hastur and Ligur tolerated Crawley, and Crawley tolerated them. It was enough. 

“Fair enough.” Lucifer concealed. “Are you sure that you don’t want me to go instead? You already have detention tomorrow.”

“Nah, I'll be all right. Eric can't be that good-for-nothing.” Then, after a few more minutes passed, he entered the library. Lucifer waited outside.

When he entered, Eric was ready in his position. Crawley sat at a table that was very close to the entrance of the restricted section. Miss Pince looked warningly at him, but he only took out his books and started reading. It took Eric a few minutes to get the librarian’s attention. When she wasn't looking at Crawley anymore, he packed his things and entered the restricted section. 

It wasn't exactly hard, and doing it during the day was less dangerous than doing it alone in the night. He had already lost one hundred points two days ago when Shadwell, the caretaker, found him in the hallway going to the library. Lucifer was luckier and had found a better hiding spot that night. 

Opening the gate wasn't difficult; he had been practicing the spells that would force the lock for a week. Aziraphale had kindly told him all the spells they used to lock the door, not knowing why Crawley wanted to know. To find the specific book could be a little more challenging. Crawley counted the minutes; he trusted that Eric could keep the librarian occupied for at least six. That had to be enough. 

After four minutes Crawley found the old potions book he was looking for, but he also found that Eric wasn't the best person to use as a partner in crime.

“I can't believe it. Help me find him, I'm sure it’s that Slytherin kid.” The librarian's voice sounded too close, and two pairs of footsteps were walking towards him. 

“Shit.” Crawley muttered, grabbing the book.

Crawley tried to navigate in silence towards the exit, hiding between the bookshelves, when someone grabbed him by the arm. 

“Nothing on this side Miss Pince,” Aziraphale shouted, looking at Crawley questioningly. “What are you doing?” Aziraphale whispered, the redhead only smiled, pointing at the book in his hands faking an innocent smile.

Aziraphale was the type of kid that you could find in the library or in a professor's office. But in contrast to Crawley, he wasn't there for detention, he probably was having tea and cookies with the professor. The librarian adopted him after having him in the library nearly every day. Still, she wasn't comfortable seeing Aziraphale drinking tea while reading. 

Aziraphale looked both right and left, before gesturing to Crawley to leave, while he returned to the search for the Slytherin student that had broken into the restricted section. Of course they didn’t succeed in finding him. 

Crawley muttered  _ thank you _ as he got safely away. He made a mental note to buy Aziraphale his favourite cookies next time he was in Hogsmeade. Aziraphale made a mental note to ask him later  _ “Really dear? You couldn’t wait two more days for that book? I was going to ask Miss Pince tomorrow.” _

Crawley felt the scolding  _ "I was going to ask Miss Pince tomorrow." _ in Aziraphale's gaze and he rolled his eyes. He found it adorable that Aziraphale kept trying to go by the rules, and if they had more time Crawley would have kept waiting for him to get the book. But Beelzebub's birthday was  _ tomorrow. _

Crawley had been waiting for Aziraphale to get him the book in legitimate ways. It has been three weeks since Crawley asked him for it before he broke into the library with Eric's help. He could have broken into the library before instead of asking Aziraphale for help and waiting. In fact, that was his first idea, but because Aziraphale insisted so many times that he should  _ "come to me dear if you have a problem or need something, just don't go breaking the rules every chance you get.”  _ that Crawley decided that maybe, just once, he could give it a shot and follow the rules. But desperate times called for desperate measures and he broke into the library, unharmed and with the book, with special thanks to Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale would not admit this out loud because he really wanted to help Crawley, but when he broke into the library a big weight lifted from his shoulders. He acted offended later but he was so relieved. And Crawley even got him two packages of his favourite cookies. 

  
  


Beelzebub was the best fifth year Slytherin student in potions class. Too advanced for the boring fifth year books, but also too much of Lucifer's friend for the professors to trust them with more advanced books. 

Lucifer and Crawley were well known for two things: being extremely intelligent, but also for being absolutely reckless troublemakers. Beelzebub was less reckless, less of a troublemaker, but it didn't stop them being dragged into doing some mischief from time to time. It was a blessing for the teachers that Dagon was their best friend; it made Beelzebub have a little more self control. 

But having the recipe for the polyjuice potion in front of them was temptation enough to break even Dagon's self-control. 

“So, what should we do?” Hastur asked. He and Ligur were troublemakers, but they were usually more bullying troublemakers than mischief-making troublemakers. That didn't stop them from occasionally assisting in Crawley’s and Lucifer's prank plans. Beelzebub was already working on the potion, it was going to take a month before it was ready to use; in the meantime the Hell Gang needed to think of something interesting to do with it.

Whenever the gang didn't know what to do, they all looked to Lucifer, expecting him to enlighten them and devise a great plan. Whenever Lucifer wasn't sure what to do, he looked to Crawley to come up with a scheme. Now Crawley had the unmistakable smile of someone who has the best idea to get all the gang in detention for at least one month. And if they really got detention for a whole month it would be absolutely worth it. 

It took two months, but they finally had the potion ready, the clothes ready, and every part of the plan coordinated. Although Crawley was the best one to come with ideas, Lucifer was the best to coordinate the plan and all of the logistics. The hair was the hardest thing to get, but Dagon managed to do it perfectly. Having someone who never gets in trouble and had good relationships with the professors was something that all troublemakers should have. 

It was Tuesday, the 10th of April, and there was not one, not two, but three Professors McGonagall walking through Hogwarts. It was absolute chaos. 

Hastur, dressed as McGonagall #1, made ten Gryffindor students cry by 11 am. It was a new record. He made Hufflepuff and Gryffindor lose nine hundred points each. Hufflepuff had only five hundred points at that moment, and the kid from whom he took nine hundred points also cried. It made a record of eleven crying students in four hours.

Beelzebub, dressed as Professor Trelawney, was in charge of following Professor McGonagall and making sure to not let her alone and not let her find out about the other McGonagalls. They were also in charge of making her late to all of her classes. 

Ligur, dressed as Professor Flitwick, was in charge of doing the exact same thing as Beelzebub. They calculated when each would talk to Professor McGonagall so as to not make it too obvious. 

Beelzebub and Ligur also engaged in messing with the students in their free time, as well as making fools of the professors they were impersonating. Professor Snape that day received, in front of a large group of students, a really, really, really embarrassing love letter from Professor McGonagall #1. Later that day, his torment didn’t stop, and he heard Professor Flitwick #1 recite to him a poem about all the dirty things he wanted to do with him. _“So many dirty things, as dirty as your greasy hair,”_ had read the poem in one part.

Lucifer, dressed as McGonagall #2, was enjoying himself impersonating Professor McGonagall and messing with all the other teachers. Professor Snape also received _another_ , even more embarrassing love confession that day also supposedly from McGonagall. Lucifer also made sure to make up the most embarrassing stories and tell them to all the professors. He told Pomona Sprout in the hallway, like someone who is sharing a very juicy rumour with a friend, that she had discovered that Severus Snape had once written an advice column to help readers solve problems about their love life in Witch Weekly Magazine. Professor Flitwick wasn’t sure what to think when he was told about Professor McGonagall’s circus clown past. Albus Dumbledore, professor of DADA, when McGonagall #2 told him that she wanted to braid his beard, was delighted. Lucifer, who was the proudest person alive, did it because he never went back on his word. Albus Dumbledore enjoyed every second of his student’s torment, realizing this wasn’t his friend Minerva, but playing along nonetheless, wanting his student to take some of his own medicine. 

By 4 pm, the actual Professor McGonagall was late to her transfiguration class with fifth year Slytherins and Ravenclaws. But luckily, Lucifer as McGonagall #2, was already there. 

In the first row of the class was Dagon, dressed as Dagon; and Eric, dressed as Beelzebub. The class had listened to Lucifer, dressed as Professor McGonagall, talk about her bold sexual adventures until the real one entered the classroom. 

“What is the meaning of this?!” shouted Professor McGonagall. Beelzebub, dressed as Professor Trelawney and Ligur, dressed as Professor Flitwick, entered after her.

“Two Professor McGonagalls!” said Ligur, faking surprise, who, dressed as Flitwick, was having the time of his life.

“Who's the real one?” said Beelzebub, dressed as Trelawney, mockingly. 

“I'm the real one!” shouted the real Professor McGonagall and Lucifer dressed as McGonagall at the same time. Then a third McGonagall appeared, who could perhaps make order of the situation. It was Hastur and he didn’t make any order at all.

“No! I am the real one, you imposters!” The students couldn't understand anything but they were experiencing a wide range of emotions. Fear was the biggest one. Confusion, because now there were not only one but _three_ McGonagalls, fear and pity for the students who were pulling this prank; they were going to be in detention for a long time. But also there was pure admiration.

It was a mystery how the two McGonagall imposters and the Flitwick and Trelawney ones escaped from Professor McGonagall. It probably was thanks to Dagon, and to Lucifer’s logistics. When the true Professor McGonagall tried to confront one of the fakes, Dagon made a smog bomb explode in the classroom. All the students ran away, following the fake professors, and cheering. 

After that, all the fake McGonagalls, the fake Flitwick and the fake Trelawney were in Slytherin Common Room, receiving all the admiration they deserved. But the day wasn't over yet. Crawley hadn’t had his moment to  _ shine _ . 

  
  


Crawley wanted to be the most obnoxious of all. He spent all day preparing for the final strike. During dinner in the Great Hall, when the polyjuice potion had worn off, Hastur, Ligur, Lucifer, Eric and Beelzebub appeared as themselves again. But after quickly eating their dinner, all of the Hell Gang, including Dagon, left the table quietly and drank the potion again. The Slytherin table did everything they could to act natural, knowing that the Hell Gang wasn't finished yet. The Director, from her seat, was watching the Great Hall door expectantly; all the other professors not so eagerly. The rest of the houses could feel the tension in the air.

It was completely silent when the door opened and a little ball appeared, rolling into the hall. The director finished her cup of wine and smiled. The ball exploded, filling the Great Hall with fireworks. The students started clapping when a Professor McGonagall, dressed in a golden cocktail dress, entered the hall accompanied by violins that played themselves, with three Severus Snapes at her right and three Severus Snapes at her left. The Severus Snapes were also dressed in the most ridiculous attires.

There were now six Severus Snapes and one Professor McGonagall. It was dangerous to mess with the head of Slytherin House, but the Hell Gang were ready to put on the best show Hogwarts had ever seen and make themselves glorious. And that show deserved six Severus Snapes.

Technically the gang had practiced what they wanted to do when they entered the Great Hall, but to be honest, they didn't look coordinated at all. The Snapes looked as if they were attempting to dance to disco music and failing. Or maybe not; after all, the goal was to embarrass themselves as much as they possibly could. There was one Snape in particular that was  _ really  _ feeling the disco music even if the violins weren't playing it. What a shame it was impossible to know for sure which member of the gang it was (but it was most probably Hastur). Crowley, as Professor McGonagall, who didn’t have to coordinate with anyone, looked a little better while he danced, but not too much better.

All the tables cheered, and a lot of students joined in the best flash mob Hogwarts had ever seen. When the teachers tried to catch the Snapes and McGonagall, a lot of students did their best to make sure they couldn’t. In any other scenario the teachers would be glad to see all the houses working as one, but not this time.

By 11 pm the Hell Gang went down in history for their glorious and victorious prank. They were in the Slytherin Common Room, back to being dressed as themselves, and untouched by professors. The whole school was grounded for a month after that. The director tried to convince the students that she'd lift the punishment, and the houses would not lose points, if someone revealed the identity of the Snapes and McGonagall. But the Slytherin students were not going to snitch on the heroes of their house. They even took an oath, swearing that if someone dared to tell a professor about it, the rest of the Slytherin house would kick them out. 

Lucifer was in fourth year, and was already well known; everyone knew he would be crowned as the prince of Slytherin one day. No one thought he would be crowned this soon, but there he was, the prince.  Crawley, who had been very much an honorary member of Slytherin for the Hell Gang before the prank, was now accepted as an  _ official _ member of Slytherin by a lot of other Slytherin students. Lucifer decided to start calling the rest of the Hell Gang his Dukes. 

“You have to admit, Aziraphale, that it was fucking amazing.”

“Sure dear, gold is definitely your colour." Aziraphale said, laughing. They were again in the Astronomy Tower at night, one day after the prank. “But please, don't make me see McGonagall dressed like that again. I beg you.” 

“I can't promise anything. But what about me dressing in a cocktail golden dress?” Crawley said, imitating how he posed as McGonagall the day before. 

“Yes, definitely.” Aziraphale chuckled, his cheeks pinker than usual, and more than he would like to admit. “The whole school could fall in love with you in a second.” 

  
  


“Beel, truth or dare?” Lucifer asked them. All the Hell Gang was in the boy’s room. Lucifer and Crawley, after many failed attempts, finally managed to get some alcohol and to convince Beelzebub and Dagon to come with them to play Truth or Dare. 

“Dare.” They said “And make it good,  _ Luci. _ ” Beelzebub was with Dagon on the floor. Dagon was against the wall and Beelzebub's head was resting on her lap. Lucifer made an overly-exaggerated face at the “ _ Luci”  _ to indicate that he took no actual offense. Despite everything the students would think in later years, the Hell Gang were really good friends during their adolescence.

“You asked for it. Let us, as a group, decide a new hairstyle for you. And you can't change it. You are going to have it for the rest of the night.” Beelzebub turned pale. “But Dagon can't participate; she'll be too easy on you. Come on boys, let’s have some ideas.” 

“BLONDE!” Hastur shouted. 

“BLONDE! BLONDE! BLONDE!” The rest of the gang chanted in chorus. 

“Rainbow.” Dagon said, under her breath, drinking a little firewhiskey. All of them became silent. 

“Okay, Dagon recovered her right to participate.” Lucifer said, impressed.

“Rainbow! Rainbow! Rainbow!” They chanted in chorus again, and Lucifer waved his wand. Beelzebub had new hair, fully colored. 

“Hastur, truth or dare.” Beelzebub was going to get revenge, no matter from whom. 

“Dare, give me something good.”

“Belly dance for Ligur for one full minute as if your life depended on it.” One couldn't tell who was the drunkest, or who was having the best time of all of them. It was probably Hastur because he was  _ really _ enjoying bellydancing. 

“Luci! Truth or dare?” he said, sitting again after shaking his booty. 

“Give me your best dare Hastur.” he said, proud of his friends. He also was ready for the worst. 

“Get slapped, in a place of choice by the slapper. And you'll be slapped by...” It was meant to be a dramatic pause, but all the Hell Gang raised their hands. Is not that they didn’t like Lucifer, they did. But they would also die for this opportunity.

“I will do your homework for next week if you let me slap him, Hastur.” Dagon rushed to say first.

“Next time we go to Hogsmeade I'll pay for all your drinks,” Ligur said. Hastur thought that Ligur had made what could be a good choice for him. This was great. 

“Choose me and I'll let you decide my hair colour for a full week, and I'll wear it in public.” Beelzebub said. Hastur was enjoying all the possibilities. 

“Beel is ready to give up all their pride. Who gives more?” Hastur said as if he was some kind of salesman. 

“If you let me slap him, I'll let you choose my hair color for a week and _ you  _ can slap  _ me _ in the face. In public,” Crawley said. Lucifer couldn’t believe it.

“SOLD! To Crawley who has no sense of self-preservation nor pride!” 

“I hate you all.” Lucifer groaned, completely done with his friends.

“Where are you going to slap the prince of Slytherin?” Hastur asked, planning a LOT of new hairstyles. 

Dagon, who was somewhat of a mother figure to the group (aka: The Mom Friend ™), was also the best one to choose if you wanted to humiliate someone, and she ran to Crawley to whisper in his ear. Crawley listened to her wide-eyed, and Dagon returned to where she had been sitting, smiling like she had knives instead of teeth. One could think that Slytherins were pretentious and serious, and they sure can be. But they are also children, and the Hell Gang was chaotic.

“Get down Lucifer, you're going to get spanked.” Crawley said triumphantly. 

“My revenge will be terrible.” Lucifer said dryly, leaning over the bed. It echoed through the room, while the rest of the gang oohed in anticipation. 

“Dagon. Truth or dare." Lucifer said, impassively. He wanted revenge.

“Truth. I'm not that dumb.”

“Boo, coward.” All of them said. Hastur even threw a peanut at her.

“I call it self-preservation, something that Crawley doesn't have. And we should tone it down a little.”

“You just suggested to Crawley that he should spank me!”

“That's why I said we should tone it down.” She said, shrugging. If the Hell Gang shared one brain cell, Dagon was the one who had it most of the time. Beelzebub gestured to Lucifer to come to them, and whispered in his ear. 

[tw] “Tell us your most embarrassing vomit story, Dagon.” Dagon looked at Beelzebub, shocked, while they gestured at their rainbow coloured hair. An eye for an eye. 

“Remember our last trip to Hogsmeade two weeks ago?” She started, and Beelzebub was already laughing. “Maybe I drank too much Butterbeer, and ate too much too. And the carriage was swaying _so much_. I was alone with Beel and puked all over myself. Beel dragged me to the castle, and I puked like, what? Four times until we get to the bathroom?" She said hiding her face. Maybe it wasn’t _that_ embarrassing, but for Dagon, who was the gang’s most respectable member, it was terribly so. [tw]

“She couldn't even stand upright; I had to BATHE HER. Can you understand what I have to go through that night? I can’t even tell you. It was awesome; she was so wasted.” Beelzebub had kept the secret for two full weeks; it was euphoric to finally tell it. They had never seen Dagon so wasted; that was a really funny night. 

“We expected so much from you Dagon, I thought you were better than us.” Lucifer said, and the rest of the boys agreed. All of them were hiding their laughs under a false mask of disappointment. “No more firewhiskey for you tonight.” 

But now it was Dagon’s turn finally, and she was ready to go all-in. 

“Crawley, truth or dare?” 

“Truth. I’m afraid of you.” 

“If you could kiss anybody you wanted in the school, who would you kiss?” Crawley smiled, leaning a little to his side where Lucifer was sitting. Lucifer and Crawley both knew all the rumors about them. Some people said that they had been dating since third year; some said that they weren’t dating but only because they were just too dumb to realize they liked each other. Dagon and all the rest of the gang thought they knew better than that; if they liked each other they had to be dating in secret because those two couldn’t keep it in their pants. Beelzebub assured everybody that they were just too proud and too dumb. Others would say that they didn’t like each other; that they were just messing with people. All the answers were correct in their own way.

“If I could kiss anybody in the school, or in the world, I would kiss Lucifer.” Crawley said, winking exaggeratedly at Lucifer. Aware as he was of the rumors, he really liked to mess with him, and with everybody. You know your friendship is really strong when the people start to doubt if you are dating.

“You just have to ask and I will kindly fulfill.” Lucifer said, passing him the bottle of fire whiskey and moving his face close to Crawley’s. Lucifer also enjoyed the rumors and he and Crawley took advantage of every opportunity they had to fuel the fire.

“Please just kiss already, your sexual tension is killing me.” Beelzebub cried, lying on the floor with their head on Dagon’s legs. Lucifer just laughed, sitting back against a wall close to Crawley and casually touching his leg.

“Lucifer; truth or dare?” Crawley said with a growing sensation of bravery burning inside him.

“Dare.” Lucifer answered with a mischievous grin spreading across his face, while Crawley moved closer to him with the grace of someone who is very tipsy.

“I dare you to kiss me,” he said as he sat on Lucifer’s lap. 

“Finally!” shouted the gang in chorus and the game continued, this time without Lucifer and Crawley for a while. Nobody talked about that kiss after that. 

Aziraphale decided not to ask any questions when his friend walked toward him with his hair bright green. 

“It’s stylish!” Crawley said.

“If you say so, dear.” Aziraphale giggled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As everytime, this is the part where I thank my beta, @fishdust, because without her I would be so lost. <3


	3. Fopdoodle Scunner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale's friendship is discovered by the Hell Gang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are entering Crawley and Lucifer's Fourth Year and Aziraphale's Third year at Hogwarts. 
> 
> Beware of bad language, no trigger warnings needed. Enjoy!

If you asked Lucifer Morningstar _ “Who is your best friend?” _ he would answer, “Crawley,” immediately.

If you asked him  _ "If you had control over an army of demons. Who would you trust to share the command with?" _ he would answer, “Beelzebub,” without missing a beat. He would probably not ask why you wanted to know, but he would wait, hoping that you, for some reason, would like to give him command of an army of demons. (I would implore you not to give him command of an army of demons.)

If you asked, _ “Who do you trust more than anyone else in the Hell Gang?” _ he would quickly answer, “Eric,” while Beelzebub and Crawley huffed indignantly. 

At first Lucifer didn't like the young Slytherin boy, but against all odds, he eventually became Lucifer’s favourite. Eric admired the Prince of Slytherin and was devoted to him as if Lucifer was some sort of God. That made Lucifer like him even more. Even if Eric was still only a boy, he would grow to be one of Lucifer's most trustworthy and closest of allies.

Eric could be a little clumsy (especially during his childhood at Hogwarts) but it wasn't for his hand-eye coordination that Lucifer had kept him so close. 

The young Slytherin had one great talent that Lucifer found more useful than brute force or intelligence: the ability to go unnoticed. Nobody thought of Eric as a threat; nobody gave him a second glance. He didn't have an aura that one could consider demonic or threatening like the rest of the Hell Gang. He didn't even spend enough time with them to be considered part of the gang by the other Slytherin students or the other Houses’ students. But he  _ was  _ a member of the Hell Gang, and he was Lucifer's favourite.

Eric was everywhere at every moment, and taking advantage of that, he acted as an extension of Lucifer's eyes and ears in the castle. One word from him was all the Prince of Slytherin needed to take action. 

A Slytherin student was trash-talking Lucifer in the fields. Eric listened carefully and passed every word the student said, his name and year to Lucifer. The very next day Lucifer hexed the Slytherin’s cauldron during the Potions class. 

The Gryffindor Quidditch captain was talking with the team about the new formation for the next match against Slytherin. They did not notice Eric, but he memorized the entire plan and passed it on to Lucifer. Lucifer passed it to Dagon, the keeper of the Slytherin team and Dagon passed it on to the captain. Slytherin destroyed Gryffindor and won the match.

A Ravenclaw insulted Crawley in the corridors. It was not the first time, but Crawley always refused to tell Lucifer. It didn't stop Eric. That Ravenclaw found himself in the bathroom vomiting slugs for two hours straight after Lucifer found him. 

Some idiot from Gryffindor used Beelzebub's deadname in the hallway and Eric heard it. Lucifer punched the Gryffindor in the face as soon as he found him. No questions asked.

Lucifer once asked Eric if he could multiply himself out of sheer force of will. It was the only coherent explanation for him to have so many eyes and ears around Hogwarts. Eric laughed, but never answered. 

It was just a matter of time before Eric came to Lucifer with something about one of the Hell Gang members. Lucifer wasn’t surprised, but it didn’t make it less unpleasant. Eric told him about what the Hell Gang called “The Hufflepuff.” But later they changed it to “The Thing” because saying the word Hufflepuff felt like it burned their tongues. 

Eric also brought a full file about “The Thing.” Name, year, friends, pictures, pictures with Crawley, favourite pastry, blood stats, family history, father’s and mother’s jobs. ( _ “What is a dentist?” _ Lucifer asked while reading it. Eric didn’t exactly know.) Eric’s hands trembled a bit before giving it to Lucifer; he wanted to leave as soon as he could but Lucifer made him stay and tell him everything. 

Lucifer couldn’t bear it; he felt nauseated. All these years of teaching Crawley to behave like the Slytherin he was, just to be stabbed in the back. Lucifer had given him everything: he had integrated him into his group of friends and had given him all the Slytherin clothes so he could be the Slytherin he wanted to be. He made sure to help Crawley forge himself a place in the respectable Slytherin House. He had taught Crawley Slytherin values. He made Crawley _worthy_. Lucifer was raising him to be one of the best and most respectable Slytherins of the school. Crawley had thrown it all away; he threw away all the help Lucifer had given him and became friends with a filthy Mudblood Hufflepuff. 

_ He is allowed to have friends that aren’t in the Hell Gang. _ Lucifer said to himself as he entered the classroom. The class that day was Transfiguration, shared between Slytherin and Ravenclaw students. 

_ He is allowed to have friends besides me. _ He thought as he stepped towards Crawley, who was waiting for him in the first row.

_ I am his best friend, and I know it.  _ He repeated, as if it was a charm to calm himself, and not to go find “The Hufflepuff” and break his nose. He took another step.

_ He is allowed to have friends that are not me. But why would he want them? _ Lucifer’s anger burned in his chest: an awful combination of feelings of frustration, deception and betrayal.

_ Why would he want to be friends with that? _ He thought as he sat with the Ravenclaw.

"You are allowed to have friends." Lucifer spat out loud rudely. Crawley looked at him, dumbfounded, trying not to laugh. 

"YEAH. I sure hope I am." He mocked.

"Don't play dumb,” Lucifer groaned. Why can't his friend just follow his line of thought? "Of course you can have other friends. But why?" 

"What?" Crawley had the habit of answering questions with more questions. Usually it was because he was curious or just because he wanted to annoy people. This time was because he truly didn't have a clue what Lucifer was talking about. 

"Why would you want to be friends with...  _ that _ ?" He said, gesturing vaguely. 

"Can you be more specific?"

"You and  _ The Hufflepuff _ ." Crawley became silent, the laugh he was trying to suppress disappeared. Lucifer’s words came out with clear disgust, as if Crawley suddenly had thrown Hippogriff poop in his face. Lucifer didn’t say a word during the rest of the class. Neither did Crawley. He felt nervous and guilty, as he had betrayed his friend in some way. Well, clearly Lucifer was acting as if he had. 

“I’m sorry.” Crawley said as they stepped out of the classroom when the class finished.

“You know what? Do whatever you want.” Lucifer said, still angry. “After all it took me to get you in Slytherin I thought you would show some more respect for this House.” Crawley bowed his head, not wanting to look his friend in the eye. Looking at the floor seemed to be his best option. Lucifer walked away and the Ravenclaw decided to let him go. Surely his friend would need a couple of days to recover and speak to him again. 

When night came Crawley was dressed in the Slytherin uniform like any other day, at the door of the Great Hall. Any other day he would just enter and sit at the Slytherin table with the Hell Gang. Today he didn’t feel that he was allowed.

He stood at the door watching the Slytherin table uncomfortably, doubtful about what to do. Lucifer looked at him with a cold stare for a mere second and then proceeded to ignore him. The rest of the gang looked at him with pity in their eyes. Crawley then looked at the Hufflepuff table where Aziraphale was watching him with a worried look on his cherubic face. 

Crawley was ready to leave when Dagon grabbed him by the arm.

“If you stop looking at the Hufflepuff table this is going to be less uncomfortable.” she said, pulling him to join the rest of the gang. 

“Right, yes.” He said, bowing his head and following her.

“We’re not angry,” Dagon said, referring to the Hell Gang. “He’s not angry, he is just hurt and dramatic. You know what he’s like.” Crawley nodded and Dagon stopped before they got to the table.

“We’re not kicking you out, dumbass. Stop being so self-conscious. Are you a Slytherin or not?” Crawley shrugged. 

“Technically…” he said mockingly, Dagon smiled, rolling her eyes.

“ _ Technically _ all of Slytherin agreed that you are. Now, stop whimpering and act like one. Head up!” Crawley felt grateful to her and the rest of the gang at the table for treating him the same as always. Well, except that Lucifer was less talkative than usual.

For a couple of weeks the rest of the classes he shared with Lucifer were as uncomfortable as Transfiguration that first day, but at least the Slytherin kept sitting and usually talking with him. 

"This is an intervention." Hastur said, two weeks later, grabbing Crawley by the arm so he couldn't escape, while Ligur grabbed him by the other. Together they dragged him from the hallway to the Slytherin Common Room.

"Useless, weak, cowards." In the Common Room Lucifer had been ranting about Hufflepuffs for about ten minutes by now. The rest of the gang agreed with him, murmuring with approval. Crawley was sitting on the green sofa, silent and alone, while the rest of them were forming a circle around him. They had tried to avoid “The Hufflepuff” topic as much as they could in the past few weeks. Sometimes it got mentioned but shushed immediately by the others, always accompanied with warning glares in Crawley’s direction. 

They were trying not to treat him differently than usual, but the tension was there. The Hell Gang didn’t speak of “The Thing” if they were other Slytherins around. And Merlin help them if someone mentioned “The Thing” when Lucifer was there. Mentioning “The Thing” in Lucifer’s presence would make the temperature in the room drop below zero. 

"Can all of you stop?" Crawley couldn’t take it anymore. He had taken every precaution. He stopped talking to Aziraphale in places where people could see them. They only went to the Astronomy Tower at night. He stopped waving at him and talking in the hallways. But it wasn’t enough for the gang. Aziraphale wasn’t angry at him, he kept being the nice and understanding Aziraphale, helpful and kind. But Crawley knew that keeping it a secret, as if they were some tragic lovers from two families who hated each other, wasn’t the way to have a real friendship.

"You have to understand Crawley, it’s not that you shouldn't still hang around with him." Lucifer said, sitting alongside him on the sofa. The Ravenclaw tried to avoid his eyes and curled to the side, distancing himself. "Do whatever you want, obviously."

"Obviously," Crawley said, trying to sound confident but missing. Lucifer rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. What I'm saying is that I want what is best for you." Dagon coughed. " _ We  _ want what is best for you." Lucifer corrected as she nodded.

"I thought you would know better," Beelzebub said and the rest of the gang hummed in agreement “Hufflepuff and Mudblood? You have awful taste.” Crawley looked at Eric. It was incredible how much he had discovered.

“You came a long way. It took us nearly four years to finally have you in Slytherin. Do you know how many douchebags I had to duel for you to sit on this couch?” Crowley looked at Lucifer’s face for the first time since he had sat down. Lucifer had a lot of healed scars on his face and hands since the first week he became part of the Dueling Club. He also had one fresh cut from dueling against Michael from Ravenclaw. 

Crowley sighed. Since Eric told Lucifer that Michael kept calling Crawley a  _ “disgrace to the Ravenclaw house and to himself,” _ Lucifer had been dueling non-stop with her and getting hurt in order to defend his friend. And Crawley couldn’t forget all the times Lucifer dueled the Slytherin students during third year defending him. 

"Well, that’s it. Do whatever you want, just don’t expect us to cheerfully greet him or anything like that.” Lucifer said to Crawley’s surprise. He looked at all his friends. 

“We don’t want you to rot. But we agreed that if you don’t come trying to give us friendship bracelets and bake banana bread, it will be all right.” Beelzebub said. 

“Just don’t let anyone else find out about it. We don’t go making friends with that House, or Mudbloods.” Lucifer sighed. 

“I promise that I won’t. I will be more Slytherin than all of you; by the end of the year you are going to forget that I’m a Ravenclaw.” Crawley said, cheerfully mocking them and looking at Dagon. 

“You wish.” Lucifer said, grinning. 

“Make us proud.” Dagon winked at him.

Crawley accidentally followed this promise to the letter.

Crawley’s owl stormed out of nowhere in the Great Hall with a note. The owl was clumsy and almost blind as it just landed, or more likely collapsed, on the Hufflepuff table. The note only read “Tower” in purposely messy calligraphy, and Aziraphale ran to his friend’s favourite spot on the Astronomy Tower. He even left his plate of food untouched. 

But it was just Crawley being overdramatic, as usual. Aziraphale let himself breathe again. He also became the first and only person to know Crawley could speak Parseltongue. Yet. 

“Why would you not tell Lucifer you can talk to snakes?” Aziraphale said, puzzled. They had been talking about this subject for at least half an hour. Crawley already explained it three times but Aziraphale just couldn’t understand. The Hufflepuff kept insisting that it was amazing and he should tell the Hell Gang. Aziraphale even defined it as a “very Slytherin trait”, and also said, “Surely dear, they are absolutely going to be very proud of you,” with just a touch of resentment that went unnoticed by Crawley due to his mental breakdown. Crawley, on the other hand, kept insisting that speaking Parseltongue was the most horrible thing that had happened to him and telling the Hell Gang was the worst idea on the planet. 

“Because!” Crawley shouted the second time Aziraphale asked why. “Because he will be jealous. Not just jealous, like fucking jealous, furious even. I mean, Lucifer is the embodiment of Slytherin, and he can’t speak Parseltongue. Imagine that his best friend, that is not even a true Slytherin, can do it while he can’t. I can’t to do that to him.” 

“If he is your friend dear, your best friend as you say, he should be happy for you. Parseltongue is not a common talent.” Aziraphale said for the third time, as peacefully as the first. He could well have been drinking tea and reading a book while Crawley walked in circles around him trying to calm down.

“Aziraphale, for the love of – That is exactly why I can’t tell him!” Crawley was having a meltdown and Aziraphale decided that he would not keep pushing it. What Crawley needed right now was support, not Aziraphale trying to explain why Lucifer was an idiot.

“Well, my dear,  _ I _ think this is awesome and _ I  _ am very happy for you.” He said, empathetically. 

“…Thank you, angel.” At least he had Aziraphale to be happy for him.

“Now dear, may I tempt you to stay here as I go to the kitchen and get us something to eat? What do you say to some crêpes?” 

“Temptation accomplished, angel.” Crawley chucked. 

  
  


Crawley did everything in his power for weeks to prevent Lucifer from discovering that he could speak Parseltongue. But when Crawley cast a fully corporeal snake as a Patronus in their Defence Against Dark Arts class, every effort he had made went into the trash. When Lucifer cast his own Patronus, Crawley knew for sure that he was absolutely screwed. It would take months before Lucifer forgave him and not even Dagon nor Beelzebub could calm him this time. 

“Don’t you fucking dare to speak to me!” Lucifer stormed into the Slytherin Common Room and all the Slytherin students ran away, afraid for their lives.

Lucifer’s violent shout wasn’t directed at them; it was directed at Crawley, who was running down the hallways after him. He called out,  _ “Don’t be angry at me Lucifer!” _ Crawley entered the Common Room, still shouting, less violently but not less angrily, “Lucifer, stop! You’re being an overdramatic asshole.”

Sure, the gang could call Lucifer _“Luci”_ , and make jokes and do everything that friends do. It wasn’t very often that one of them raised their voice to him. Sure Beelzebub called him all types of colourful names, and sure, Dagon had talked him out of being angry at Crawley’s friendship with “The Thing.” But Crawley was the only one who dared to speak to him like that, and to call him out whenever Lucifer was acting like an idiot. Lucifer usually tolerated it but not today. He had pride. 

“I am overreacting?” He said turning to the Ravenclaw. “Don’t you think that I have every fucking right to be mad?”

“If you’re going to be angry, Lucifer, be angry at your fucking peacock Patronus! Or be fucking angry at yourself. If you weren’t so full of yourself, maybe, and just maybe, you would have cast something better, you fucking idiot. Don’t be angry because of my Patronus, and above all, don’t be fucking angry at me!” Crawley shouted, furious, in the middle of the Common Room. It was empty except for Crawley and Lucifer, as well as Hastur and Ligur, but they could very well not be there as they were trying not to move or breathe or blink and were hoping to pass themselves off as candle stands. 

“Give me my clothes.” Lucifer said composing himself. 

“Say what?” 

“You heard me, give me all my clothes back. You aren’t a Slytherin; you don’t deserve them; you are a fucking Ravenclaw. As useless as any other eagle.” Lucifer screamed, his hair dishevelled and his face red from shouting. 

Crawley stood, shocked; staring incredulously at his friend. Sure, he knew that Lucifer would get jealous, angry even. He knew that they were going to fight, but he expected that they would work it out after some shouting and trading insults. But Lucifer was stepping over the line, and crossing, jumping, spitting on all the lines. 

“Now.” Lucifer had pride, an awful lot of it, but Crawley had pride too. He wasn’t going to let Lucifer talk to him like that. Lucifer had been talking about how much he had taught him about being a Slytherin, now Crawley was going to show him. He slowly removed all the things he wore with Slytherin colours at the moment: scarf, tie and cape. He swallowed all the things he wanted to say.

Crawley thought, _ You fucking prideful asshole, _ while pulling off the Slytherin scarf Lucifer had given him a couple of months ago. He thought,  _ Do you realize you’re being an idiot and that I can’t control what kind of Patronus I cast?  _ while removing the Slytherin cloak Lucifer had given him that year. He thought,  _ If I could change my Patronus for you to forgive me, I swear I would do it. Please don’t say something you are going to regret later. _ while unknotting his tie and looking directly at Lucifer with pleading eyes. The Slytherin was still breathing heavily and didn’t look like someone who was thinking of apologizing. 

Crawley thought,  _ You can’t really be serious about this.  _ while waving his wand as he made every piece of cloth Lucifer had lent him over the years appear tidily folded, on the green sofa. 

He did it calmly, under Lucifer’s stone cold gaze. During this interaction Dagon and Beelzebub entered the Common Room, faces red and breathless. Eric had run looking for them when Lucifer entered the Common Room shouting. The three of them came running from the fields to the Common Room to stop Lucifer and Crawley before they did something stupid like fight. But when they entered and saw them they realized that trying to intervene wasn’t really a good option. The best thing they could do at the moment was blend in with the walls and try not to catch any hexes if the boys attacked each other. 

When Crawley finished removing the clothes, he walked towards Lucifer under the attentive gaze of the Hell Gang, and standing just inches apart, looked directly into his lilac eyes. Eric wanted to disappear; he tried to hide behind Ligur. Meanwhile Ligur tried to hide behind Hastur, and Hastur tried to hide behind Dagon. Beelzebub and Dagon had their wands in hand, just in case. Crawley and Lucifer kept staring at each other; they looked like a snake and an eagle ready to attack. No one could say who was the prey and who was the predator. 

“Don’t you ever dare to talk to me again.” Lucifer spoke pridefully, trying to pass himself off as emotionless, but he was burning with rage. Crawley took a breath, decided to destroy the rest of Lucifer’s pride, and hissed. He hissed in a language any of the Hell Gang, or any Slytherin student at all would kill to speak.  _ Especially _ Lucifer Morningstar. 

“It means,” Crawley said, walking out of the Common Room under the frozen stares of the Hell Gang. “A fucking Ravenclaw is a better Slytherin than you, asshole.” Lucifer's face was red, then white and then red again. Crawley, far away from the Slytherin Common Room, could still hear Lucifer’s breakdown and his shattered pride.

  
  


Aziraphale hugged him. Aziraphale had never hugged him as tight as this moment when Crawley appeared at the Astronomy Tower wearing no distinctive house clothing. No cloak, no tie, not even the scarf. Nothing green, nothing silver. Just him with his fiery red hair and golden eyes. 

“I am very proud of you my dear,” Aziraphale, as we said before, sounded more like a middle-aged gay uncle than a third year student, but the  _ dear _ never failed to make Crawley smile, even in moments like this. 

“I mean, I’m livid!” Aziraphale said, pulling away from the hug but not releasing Crawley entirely. “Lucifer treated you so miserably. But, oh dear, you are incredibly amazing and so, so brave to call him on his  _ bullshit _ .” Sometimes Aziraphale would step away from his image as a n ancient -gay-man-who-probably-owns-a-bookshop personality and just say something like  _ bullshit _ , right out loud. 

“Whoa there, language, angel.” Crawley’s mouth opened so wide it could have dropped to the floor. After that day he bought a notepad for the exclusive purpose of having somewhere to write down every bad word Aziraphale said out loud. That year he just wrote two. Both were on the same day and both referred to Lucifer. Aziraphale had said _bullshit_ , but just moments before that, he called Lucifer a _fopdoodle scunner._ Aziraphale explained that a fopdoodle scunner was an old insult meaning a "vain, insignificant wretch." Crawley lost it at that and laughed for a solid minute. Aziraphale had just made his horrible day a lot better. 

“You don’t need him,” Aziraphale said “You, my dear, are better than him.” 

“At being a Slytherin?” He said sarcastically. 

“You’d be better than him in every House Crawley. You are the bravest, smartest, kindest and most cunning person I know. Lucifer thinks he raised you; he treats you like you owe him something. My dear, the only thing you owe him is a good jinx to repay all the headaches he made you suffer.” Aziraphale spoke with a fierce devotion that made Crawley feel breathless and safe. Aziraphale was serious and he meant every word. Crawley looked at him with tears in his eyes. A secret he had held inside for so many years was burning him to his very core. Maybe it was time to let it go, it wasn't like Aziraphale was going to judge him and stop talking to him.

“The Sorting Hat, when I asked him to put me in Slytherin, said  _ “No, Slytherin is not good for you boy; you would not be happy there. You have the mind of a Ravenclaw.’ _ ” Crawley said, imitating the Sorting Hat’s voice. “But do you know what he also said?”

Aziraphale tried to say something but Crawley continued talking, “He said _ , “you could also be a very good Hufflepuff; an unconventional one but a good one nonetheless.” _ Now, I wish he had put me in Hufflepuff, because if I were one you and I would have been best friends before, and I wouldn’t have to deal with that  _ fopdoodle scunner’s _ bullshit.” Aziraphale hugged him tighter this time. 

The hug could easily have lasted for hours. Aziraphale held Crawley as close as he could. He hugged him close enough to accidentally bump their foreheads together and laugh. Close enough for Crawley to try to repeat all the things Lucifer had said, while resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder and failing, drowning himself with the words. Aziraphale shushed him, caressing his hair slowly and tenderly. Crawley assured him “I’m not sobbing, angel.” 

Aziraphale only answered “Of course you’re not, my dear, of course you’re not.”

Crawley couldn’t understand how he had considered Lucifer his best friend for so many years when Aziraphale was there in front of him. No, not in front, he corrected himself. Lucifer was always in front of him, casting a shadow that he had to follow and a will that everybody had to obey. But the shadow was not there anymore, and he had to obey no one. Now Lucifer was behind him; and Aziraphale, the kind and good and pure Aziraphale, his best friend, was at his side, like an equal, like a real best friend. A real best friend who doesn’t want him to crawl at their feet like a servant.

“I’m changing it,” Crawley said suddenly, pulling away from Aziraphale’s wet shoulder but still in a hug.

“I beg your pardon Crawley?” Aziraphale tried, but sometimes it was very difficult to follow Crawley’s train of thought. 

“That, my last name, I’m changing it. I don’t want to be Crawley anymore, no more crawling around the floor where Lucifer walks; I’m not a Slytherin anymore. I want my wings, like the eagle I am, I’m gonna be the best Ravenclaw. A raven, a crow…” He grinned. “What do you think about Crowley?” Crawley, now Crowley, said. The sky was clear and the sun showered him with soft spots of sunlight making his amber eyes shine. Aziraphale smiled, the colours of the sunset suited Crowley very well. With sparking fire in his eyes and the flaming halo of his hair, Crowley was burning like a reborn phoenix. 

“I think it suits you wonderfully, dear.” The tenderness in Aziraphale’s voice made Crowley blush. Aziraphale pulled him closer, motioning for them to sit against a wall. He began softly running his fingers through Crowley’s hair again while still embracing him. 

“Thank you Aziraphale, for everything.” 

“There is no need to thank me,  _ Crowley _ .” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> J. K Rowling who? We don't know her. In this Castle we respect our trans folks. 
> 
> Be like Lucifer and defend the nonbinary and trans people.


	4. Pale Blue Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no trigger warnings for this chapter, except for a little language.

The next day Crowley became a new person. The first day with his new official name Crowley was ready to change all the teachers’ scrolls where his old name was. Aziraphale stopped him and advised him to  _ “kindly ask them to change it to the new one.” _ Crowley hadn’t thought about it, but when he  _ kindly asked _ there wasn’t a professor who didn’t respect his decision. 

The first person from the Hell Gang to approach him was Dagon, as Crowley suspected it was going to be. Crowley was dressed, for the first time, in his Ravenclaw uniform outside the classroom and outside his Common Room. He felt very out of place. 

“Parseltongue, really? You seriously meant that,  _ ‘I’m going to be a better Slytherin than you,’”  _ she said, mockingly, throwing him one of her old cloaks and a tie. “I can’t let Lucifer, or anyone, see you dressed like this. Suit yourself.” 

“I have no other option y’know. It's not like I’m a Slytherin.” Crowley said sarcastically and looking at the robes suspiciously. “It's impossible, even for you, to have already managed to convince him to talk to me.” 

“He doesn’t talk to me either. Yesterday he locked himself in the boys room and wouldn’t come out." She shrugged. "I was planning to drag him by his ponytail and glue him to a chair so you two can sort this thing out later. But it will be easier for me to convince him to talk if you don’t embarrass us by dressing like this in public.” She said pointing at his Ravenclaw uniform, Crowley made an offended noise.

“Oh no, absolutely no. I don’t have to sort anything with him. I didn’t do anything. And how I dress is my own decision and I don’t care if you find it embarrassing.” He said, getting angry.

“Don’t make this more difficult than already is Crawley.” Dagon looked tired. She didn’t want to deal with this but everybody knew that neither of them was going to take the first step without some help. Crowley, because he was right, Lucifer because he was Lucifer.

“I’m not Crawley anymore. I changed it.” He said giving Dagon her robes back. “You can start calling me Crowley. Or don’t talk to me at all.”

“Lucifer can be a jerk, but we aren’t.” Crowley raised his eyebrows. He was sure that Dagon would not stop speaking to him, but knowing the Hell Gang, and knowing Lucifer, it was just a matter of time for him to throw a tantrum and have them stop hanging out with Crowley. He prefered to save them time. Anyway, he had his best friend on his side. Dagon continued, “If you need something, talk to me.” 

“Just let him know that I’m not the one who needs to apologize. And that I’m not going to wait for him forever.” He said walking away, leaving Dagon alone. 

“You are truly a snake under all those feathers, don’t you Crowley?” Dagon muttered, feeling just a little bit proud of him. She took a deep breath; they were going to be subject to Lucifer’s tantrums for a long time.

Crowley had always been a little untidy, a little messy too, but now he walked out of the Ravenclaw Common Room in a complete, unmussed and shiny Ravenclaw uniform every single day. If he enchanted his robes to make the blue was more brilliant and recognizable from the distance we can’t know for sure. Filius Flitwick, the head of House, looked at him incredulously and gave him ten points after telling him how proud he felt to see him dressed like that. 

Crowley always had decent grades, to be honest; he was clever, but he was also the king of procrastination. Now he wanted excellent grades. Lucifer doesn't like to feel inferior? He was going to show Lucifer how superior to him he could be. Crowley was going to be at the top of every class and drag his ex-best friend across the floor.

By the end of his Fourth year he excelled in every class. It was very helpful to have Aziraphale to help him get every book he needed from the library, cheer for him and make sure not to let his friend miss any meals. He also appreciated Dagon because although she wouldn’t hang out with him as much as before, she did lend him all her notes from her old classes, and sometimes sat with him in the library if he needed help. She also made sure to let Lucifer know each time she hung out with Crowley. Lucifer gave her the cold shoulder every single time for a couple of hours, but after that he proceeded to pretend to be uninterested, while also trying to get information about Crowley from her. Dagon never told him anything. 

Meanwhile, during the rest of Fourth year, in addition to having a not so silent competition with Lucifer in their classes, Crowley was also engaged in an unspoken one with Michael. Michael, from Ravenclaw and in the same year as Crowley and Lucifer, was the one who had the best grades in their year. Michael was in first place, and then Lucifer and Crowley below her, fighting for second place. When Crowley started to compete against Lucifer, he also found himself accidentally competing against Michael too. Crowley couldn't remember exactly when or how it began or when she stopped insulting him. But he could remember the first compliment she gave him when she saw him wearing the Ravenclaw uniform outside of the Classroom. 

“Looking good, Crowley; did the snake finally bite you? Or did you get tired of pretending and crawling around him like a worm?” It wasn’t  _ exactly _ a compliment, but Crowley took it like one.

They conversed from time to time after that. They weren't friends, but since Crowley began to present himself as a Ravenclaw she became more at ease with him. When her friends tried to insult him she didn’t stop them, but it was the first time Crowley stood up for himself without Morningstar coming to rescue, or taking revenge on the dueling floor. Then he and Michael started to respect each other and began a still unspoken, but healthier, competition than the one he had with Lucifer.

Assuming that Crowley could simply "leave” the respectable Slytherin house from one day to the next without any repercussions was a mistake. Even if the Hell Gang wasn't against him, Lucifer wasn't there to protect him. The Slytherin students felt insulted when Crowley switched Houses, as if Slytherin wasn’t enough for him. They ignored it for a day, for two, for three, because they knew Crowley and Lucifer had fought. But when other students started gossiping about Crowley leaving Slytherin House, the Slytherins began targeting him more and more as the rumours spread . Without Lucifer and the Hell Gang backing him up, he not only had to deal with a lot of offended Slytherin students who made a decision to attack him, he also had to face suspicious Ravenclaw students that wanted to have nothing to do with him. And Aziraphale, poor Aziraphale. He tried to defend Crowley against insults and the occasional jinx the Slytherins threw at him, but he hadn't the power that Lucifer had. 

Dagon and Beelzebub were there to help him, especially Dagon. But Crowley didn’t want to still be dependent on Lucifer’s shadows. Crowley had to learn to protect himself and Aziraphale when the Slytherin students began to target him too.

  
  


_ The enemy of my enemy is my friend, _ Michael thought. Lucifer wasn't her enemy, and Crowley wasn’t her friend. But if the opportunity to embarrass the Prince of Slytherin presented itself on a silver tray, who was Michael to refuse it? 

"Do you have a partner for the Transfiguration essay, Crowley?" Michael asked, loud enough so Lucifer, who was just one table ahead of them, could hear.

"No. Do you?" Crowley said, trying to keep from smiling, understanding Michael’s intentions very well. Crowley and Michael were both competing against the Prince of Slytherin.

"Yes. You." She said offering her hand. "What do you think?" Crowley grinned and shook. 

"It will be a pleasure." 

You can imagine Lucifer’s face. It was the same one he made when Eric told him that Crowley and Michael had started studying together at the library. Two weeks later they got the best grades in the Transfiguration essay. 

In addition to taking private lessons in Astronomy, Professor Sprout happily agreed to have him come once a week to the greenhouse to prepare for next year’s Advanced Herbology classes. Not feeling like all of that was enough, Crowley also created an invisible ink that could only be read with a special pair of glasses – which he also invented. Those glasses also made his eyes feel less tired (he really needed them to keep studying at Michael’s pace), and with them he could read either at night in absolute darkness or in bright light. He could also turn them into sunglasses,and they were extremely useful in spotting Eric without him noticing that he was being seen. If Lucifer wanted to collect information about Crowley he should come himself and apologize instead of sending his mole to spy. 

When his Fifth year began, Crowley was the most recognizable student in Ravenclaw, with his bright red hair, his gleaming blue and bronze uniform and his glasses. Crowley was resplendent and Aziraphale was inseparably at his side. Crowley made sure everybody knew who his best friend was. 

Lucifer, on the other hand, was dying inside, filled with rage and jealousy. Seeing Crowley with a Hufflepuff, after all he taught him about the values of the Houses, was killing him. But above all, the rumours were the worst thing. After three years of people thinking they were dating, with everybody knowing that they were  _ the  _ best friends, after all the people starting to really question their memory about which house Crowley was in, by some sort of weird Mandela Effect; after all that, he was replaced by a  _ Hufflepuff _ .

Imagine yourself, after starting to build your reputation as the Prince of Slytherin from your first year, being replaced by a Hufflepuff. Imagine yourself, after doing everything to secure your best friend a place in your House, seeing him throw it all away in just one day. Lucifer had another meltdown and it was only the second day of fifth year.

”Get your shit together Lucifer.” Beelzebub said, very tired, after watching Lucifer fight with his breakfast. “You have to apologize.” Dagon said, pushing him a little bit more, and Lucifer broke the third glass of the week. It was the first Tuesday of the school year. Dagon sighed, it was going to be a very long year.

  
  


Crowley had started taking extra classes in Astronomy with Professor Aurora Sinistra since the last few months of his Fourth year. She also got to know him very well after he started using the Astronomy tower as if it was his study nest. 

“Have you ever wondered what stars are made of, professor?” The classroom of the Astronomy Tower was empty except for Professor Sinistra, who was grading papers at her desk, and Crowley, who was using her telescope. She gave Crowley special classes every week, and sometimes he came in between just to use her telescope. There was something about the stars that just captivated him.

“The Muggles have a lot of books about it; they are very curious people. I can lend you some books of Muggle science that I have, if you want.” Crowley paused before answering, trying to resist thinking about Lucifer’s harsh opinions about Muggles. These last few months he had been rebelling against Lucifer even in these little things. Muggle science wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t want to read it either. That Muggle book ended up being very useful to him later on.

“Yes, thank you,” he said, looking through the telescope again. Stars came in all colours and sizes, but the one he liked best was shining with a pale blue light, with the same intensity of Aziraphale’s eyes when he was looking at his favourite pastry. It always made Crowley smile. He took another sip of his tea and ate a cookie that, as always, was one of Aziraphale’s favourites. Somehow Aziraphale always managed to hide some in Crowley’s cloak pockets when he wasn’t looking, even after Crowley insisted he wasn’t hungry.  _ “You may be not hungry now dear, but you will be later, and it’s good to always have a snack on you.” _

It took Crowley a couple more weeks to finally get what he wanted from Aurora Sinistra. Being friends with Lucifer for so many years hadn’t been that bad, sometimes you learn one or two things about how to manipulate the conversation so people would tell you exactly what you wanted to know. Professor Aurora Sinistra kindly gave him the name of the book he needed and where to find it. With _“The Manipulation of the Magic of Light”_ and the Muggle Science book, Crowley made one of his best and most useful inventions. 

Every teenager needs a place where they can take out their frustrations. Some use sports to do it, some use art, painting or music, some just don't do it and let their frustration curl up inside them until it explodes. Not a very recommendable thing to do. 

Lucifer Morningstar was the type of person who vented his frustration through sports. He channeled his dissatisfaction, grievances, disappointments and problems into winning every match at the Dueling Club against any student who had the guts to challenge him.

The younger Slytherin students that were part of the Dueling Club liked to duel with him. He was always less tough with them than with the rest of the students. He helped them to improve, gave them advice and let them win the first few matches. The older Slytherin students liked to duel against him too. He was very skilled and everybody wanted to win the betting prize that came with lasting more than fifteen minutes in a duel against him. The other Houses’ students weren't so eager to duel against him. Lucifer was skilled, but not only that, he liked dueling and took it very seriously. The Hufflepuffs learned to avoid him, they saw that he got very _intense_ when his opponent was wearing yellow.  There were other students that wanted to engage him, and took every opportunity to do so. If they had the chance to duel against him during the tournament they became very excited. Gabriel and Uriel, from Gryffindor Sixth and Fifth year, were especially keen to challenge him. Those duels were always riveting spectacles. The three of them took it very seriously, and Gabriel and Uriel always lasted around fifteen minutes in each match. They were record-setters.

One thing was very clear in the Dueling Club: Lucifer always wins. 

But of course, rules always have an exception: Michael Archangel, from Ravenclaw Fifth year, could and did defeat him more than once.

Lucifer had an obsession with her. During their third year, it was because she kept messing with Crawley, and Lucifer stepped in to defend him. Lucifer found that Michael was as skilled as he was. If someone could give the Prince of Slytherin a true challenge, it was her. Lucifer had mixed emotions about it. He loved a good opponent, but he also hated losing. Every week he got a new scar from dueling against her that he could have easily healed with magic, as she did with the ones he gave her, but he wanted these scars. 

Gabriel, Uriel and the Ravenclaw student members of the Dueling Club always asked Michael to participate in the Dueling Tournament. They were bored with Lucifer winning it every year, and watching them fight each other seriously would be a real thrill for the school. She always refused.  Fighting with Lucifer in the club was one thing that she had taken seriously enough and enjoyed the first few times, but she wasn’t enthusiastic about the idea of a _ real _ duel. In third year, Lucifer always asked her to duel because he wanted to defend Crowley. During the second half of their Fourth year, his fixation with Michael transformed as she had befriended Crowley. After two duels Michael decided not to fight against him anymore. The last thing she needed was Lucifer to burst some Avada Kedavra because of his rampage of jealousy over his ex-best friend.

  
  
  
  


“Please dear, I lied to Madam Pince for you. Take good care of this book, I beg you.” Madam Pince adored Aziraphale, but was strict about which books she would loan, and to which students she would loan them to. When Aziraphale asked her for books from the restricted section for Crowley, they were always uncensored ones and very old and rare. She only agreed because Aziraphale was always careful with them and very trustworthy.

“Angel, don’t worry, I’m always careful. I’m not going to ruin your perfect score of books borrowed and returned on time and in perfect condition,” he said, grabbing the book Aziraphale gave him. “Thank you, really.” 

“Yes, I know you’re always careful. I’m sorry it took me that long but Madam Pince was hard to convince. It was even more difficult to get than other books from the restricted section.” Aziraphale wanted to keep stressing to Crowley the importance of safe-guarding the book and returning it on time, but he suddenly shut his mouth.

“Hi,” said a hellish voice behind Crowley’s back that made him shiver.

“What do you want Lucifer?” Crowley didn’t want to turn around to look at him but he did anyway, making sure to have his glasses firmly in place. Aziraphale moved to his side instantly as if he was his guardian angel.

“Are you busy right now?” Lucifer said, looking at the wall. He sighed and returned his gaze to Crowley, swallowing his pride. “I just want to talk.” He looked at Aziraphale for a moment. Lucifer’s face was unreadable, he could have been thinking about killing Aziraphale in the most horrible way possible, or he could have been thinking about a field full of sunflowers.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, was thinking of all the dirty insults he knew, ready to fling every one of them at Lucifer. And that was fully readable in his expression. Meanwhile,  Crowley had his wand ready to Expulso Lucifer’s ass goodbye if he even dared to say something to Aziraphale. Lucifer was the first to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Look, for real, I just want to talk to you. Preferably alone,” he said, side-eyeing Aziraphale briefly. “But that doesn’t mean that you have to agree to any of it, to talk alone or to talk to me at all. If you want to shout at me, or ask me to leave and never talk to you again it’s absolutely okay.” Even for Crowley this was a very awkward situation. 

Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other, a little confused and suspicious. Crowley winked at Aziraphale. As methods of human communication go, a wink is quite versatile. You can say a lot with a wink.

Crowley’s wink meant something along the line of,  _ “Don’t worry, I’ve got this. Go ahead, I’ll go pick you up after your class is over and we can grab something from the kitchen and go eat in the fields.’ _ ”

Aziraphale winked back, and as far as Crowley was concerned, Aziraphale’s wink meant, _ “Yes my dear, I’m sure you’ve got this. You’re absolutely amazing; go and jinx him. I’ll leave so you can do it without witnesses.”  _

Aziraphale had read Crowley's wink perfectly because his wink-reading abilities were the most tip top of them all, contrary to Crowley’s wink-reading abilities that weren’t really in tip top condition. In reality, Aziraphale’s wink meant: “ _ No my dear, I don’t think you’ve got this, but I understand that you want to be alone. Please take care, and you just need to say the word and I will assist you in doing any mischief you desire to him.” _ Aziraphale communicated like a prim old man even with his body language and winks .

“I’m going to class.” Aziraphale smiled at Crowley and walked away, but before leaving he gave Lucifer a warning glare. Lucifer just acknowledged it, doing nothing. Well, it was better than what Crowley had expected. Maybe Lucifer really was, for once, trying to not be a prick.

The corridor suddenly was too quiet and neither of them were speaking or looking at each other.

“So, why did you need a restricted section book, Crawley?” Lucifer was, again, the first to speak. He was the one who wanted to talk, after all.

“It’s none of your business. And I changed my name. It’s been nearly a year now. Eric surely told you already.”

“Yes, Crowley, I know. I was just teasing, a really bad idea. Old habits die hard.” Crowley’s look was clear: Lucifer’s excuses weren’t working. He needed to go all in or nothing. Lucifer took a really deep breath, knowing how to apologize wasn’t exactly one of his strengths.

“Look, Crowley. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say, I’m sorry for being an absolute asshole. I should have apologized to you before you walked out of our Common Room. No wait, before that, after I asked you to give me my clo– no wait. I should have rehearsed this.” Lucifer was a mess, and if Crowley wasn’t so angry at him he probably would have had to fight his urge to smile. 

“The thing is,” Lucifer continued after composing his thoughts, “I shouldn’t have shouted at you, or behaved as I did. You were right. I was overreacting like the drama queen I am.”  Neither of them were looking at each other, and they remained silent for a couple of minutes until Lucifer spoke again, anxiously. “Come on, I’m apologizing here, help me a little, it’s not really my strong suit.”

“Are you apologizing just because I’m getting better grades than you in classes, Lucifer?”

“What? No.” It was true that Hastur and Ligur weren’t really good partners to study with and do essays with. And seeing Crowley befriending Michael made him want to scream too. But those weren't the only reasons. “No, Raphael, I’m apologizing because I miss my best friend.” No sarcasm, no taunts and no teasing. Lucifer sounded genuine, and for the first time since first year, he called him by his first name, as an equal. Crowley stood frozen and speechless for a moment.

“I understand that I can be an asshole sometimes,” Lucifer began again, even more nervously. He was 10% Lucifer, and 90% anxiety currently, and he didn’t like being so soft and sincere.

“Just sometimes?” Crowley asked, his voice higher-pitched than usual, the tone he used to tease him. That meant Crowley had a smile hiding inside somewhere. Lucifer grinned.

“All right, gotcha, most of the time,” Lucifer raised both of his hands in a defensive gesture and smiled cheekily. “I know that I can’t just expect to come here, just say “I’m sorry” once – please don’t ask me to say it again – and boom, we’re best friends. Not after I behaved like a dick, and you have a new best friend who clearly isn’t one. But we share McGonagall’s class tomorrow. Just imagine her face if she sees us sitting together.” Crowley imagined it, and now he was dying to see it in real life. Causing mischief alone was very boring.

“You  _ sure _ this isn’t because you need help studying?” He asked again, but this time it wasn’t a real question, it was just friendly teasing.

“I know it is hard to believe, but I’m ready to admit that you’re better than me in some things. In a lot of things. Except on the broom; you suck at flying; please let me give you lessons.”

“Right, sure.” Crowley smiled but didn’t say anything else.

“So, are we sitting together tomorrow and ruining McGonagall’s mood then?” he teased, poking at Crowley’s ribs with his finger. Crowley didn’t shrink away from the gesture.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Great. Great. That’s, that’s great,” he said, getting nervous. “I think I should leave now. Thank you Crowley.” Lucifer turned to walk but Crowley grabbed him by the arm.

“Lucifer, could you call me by my first name instead of Crowley?”

“Whatever you want Raphael, you just have to ask for it.”

  
  


“I really think he was being honest. Bishop A3 to Knight C5.”

“ _ F–french toast _ ,” Aziraphale said as he watched his tower being absolutely destroyed, but he still dodged uttering a bad word. He had not said fuck before, and he had sworn that he never would. “I don’t know Crowley.”

“Look angel, it’s not like I’m gonna be his friend again or start hanging out with him or whatever. But he had  _ never ever apologized _ to  _ anyone _ , and it seems harmless to sit with him once. Are you going to make a move or what?”

“Shhh Crowley, I’m thinking.” Aziraphale disliked Wizard’s chess because it was so barbaric. He always tried to avoid smashing his opponent’s pieces as much as he could. He preferred Muggle’s chess, which didn’t involve violent destruction of pieces. He sighed, all Muggle things you brought to Hogwarts sooner or later would become very magical if used by wizards, including chess pieces. 

“Pawn G3 to Pawn H2. Dear, do whatever you think is right.”

“I’m asking you what _ you  _ think is correct because I trust you and I consider you not only 70% of my self-control but also the voice of reason. Also, Queen F6 to F8 and check.”

“Rook E7 to E8, I feel that I am not impartial enough to give my opinion, and checkmate Crowley.”

“Fuck.”

“Language, dear,” Aziraphale said as he lowered his mug of cocoa with marshmallows floating on top. “I think, Crowley, this is a decision you need to make alone. I hope you’re better at making decisions than you are at chess.”

  
  


It was a Tuesday, and it was 4 am. Crowley had a very odd sleep schedule, Aziraphale didn’t, but that didn’t stop Crowley from waking him up in the middle of the night.

_ What does this mean, Crowley?  _ Aziraphale whispered to himself as he walked through the hallways of the castle following a tiny snake. The snake wasn’t Crowley, the snake was called William Snakespeare. Aziraphale had named it after a Muggle writer. He had loaned one of William Shakespeare’s books to Crowley during the summer holidays and when he saw Crowley again, he had been so mesmerized by it that he refused to read anything else for two whole months. 

During the summer he had practiced Parseltongue and tamed a bunch of snakes. Usually they were crawling in the Hogwarts fields or napping with Crowley. Sometimes he would ask them to do some errands for him, like waking up Aziraphale at 4 am one Tuesday and bringing him to the Astronomy Tower.

William, being the fastest one, was the best one to do this errand, it would make it easier for Aziraphale to avoid being found by Shadwell, the caretaker. Aziraphale and William did a great job of not making a sound, or they were until a bright light coming from the stair to the Astronomy Tower blinded them.

Aziraphale rushed to the entrance shouting, “Crowley! Are you okay?”

“SHHH! Aziraphale be quiet, you’re gonna get us caught.” The light disappeared and Crowley was all right, in one piece, holding a star in his hands. A star. Aziraphale tried to speak but he couldn’t make the words come out of his mouth. Crowley looked at him. Aziraphale was gasping, looking like he wasn’t really sure how to feel or what to think until he finally managed to ask.

“How?”

“I made it,” Crowley said, proud of himself. “I needed some practice before showing it to you but here it is and I made it. I need to thank you because without you risking your work in the library to get me books I wouldn’t….” Crowley kept talking but Aziraphale wasn’t listening to him. He was looking at the star. It shone in Crowley’s hands, floating delicately. It was bright, so bright that it looked white at first, but it had a soft light blue aura around it that had Aziraphale mesmerized. “You aren’t listening to me Aziraphale,” Crowley said, but he didn’t sound angry; he was in fact smiling fondly at his friend. Aziraphale was completely lost in the wonder of it all. He never had managed to get that look from Aziraphale before.

“No dear, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. I was just rattling on about boring stuff like space dust.”

“I don’t think anything you say can be boring Crowley.” Crowley made a Crowley _ ™  _ sound that was something like  _ ‘ngk’. _

“I didn’t want to show it to you until I got the right colour. I needed a couple of tries, but here it is.”

“What? It’s not the first one?”

“Nah, the first one blew up in my face. I nearly lost my eyebrows.” 

Then Crowley removed his dark glasses and looked up at the ceiling. Aziraphale followed his gaze. The ceiling was covered with little light dots, beautiful light blue stars made by Crowley. He gasped in awestruck delight so many times that he wondered if he would need new lungs. His eyes were shining. Crowley would make as many stars as needed to keep Aziraphale’s eyes shining like that.

“It’s for you,” Crowley said, moving closer to Aziraphale. “I made them for you, In fact, I was trying to make them to resemble you. Your eyes, to be more specific. I wanted to give you the first one that I could make, but it exploded. And all the others were not the right colour and… Oh no, angel don’t cry, please.” Aziraphale couldn’t stop his tears and he didn’t try too much either.

“For me?” He was overwhelmed and it didn’t help when all the stars dropped to the floor around them as Crowley hugged him.

“Yes angel, of course they are for you.” Crowley sighed, “I wanted to give you something, you know, for being a good friend and sticking with me after everything that happened last year,” he said, blushing. Crowley, inside, was really so soft at heart, even while trying to pretend he wasn’t.

“They are all marvellous dear, thank you. Truly.” Aziraphale smiled, while his teary eyes, his happy teary eyes, outshone any star Crowley could make. Crowley had to fight the urge to hug him again. He would make as many stars Aziraphale wanted if it meant the Hufflepuff would look at him like that.

“But dear, where should I keep it? And how? I never had a star before.”

“Oh, give me your hand,” he said, placing the star in Aziraphale’s palm. “You can close your hand. It won’t burn you. You can keep the star in your pocket if you want, or use it like a lamp, or I don’t know, whatever you want. I wasn’t really thinking that far.”

Aziraphale was torn. One part of him wanted to look at the star, and the other part didn’t want to stop looking into Crowley’s eyes.

”Thank you,” They both said, in unison, and laughed.

“Thank you for the star Crowley.” Aziraphale smiled, his voice tender.

“Thank you angel, for being you.” Crowley said, and Aziraphale blushed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, the good fluff. 
> 
> Yes, Pale Blue Stars because of _that_ song.


	5. Apex Predator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, the plot thickens! 
> 
> Tw: minors drinking alcohol, mild mentions of sexual touching. Enjoy!

Lucifer sat in the centre of the first row of the classroom and reserved a seat for Crowley, just in case. There were other seats available; Michael was alone for example, and Crowley had sat with her before in the classes they shared with Slytherin. Crowley  _ had _ a choice. He didn’t need to sit with Lucifer right away just because he had apologized. Crowley could even do it later, in other classes, another day, another week. But the first thought Crowley had when Professor McGonagall hurried him to take a seat was:  _ what would Aziraphale do in a situation like this? _

The real Aziraphale, in a situation like this – especially with Lucifer – would have acknowledged the apology but refuse to sit with him and would not try to engage him in a conversation. Maybe he would return his greetings, but not necessarily offer them first. Aziraphale would also quote Helga Hufflepuff to Crowley if he asked why,  _ “Don’t mistake kindness for weakness, dear.” _

On the other hand, the imaginary Aziraphale, who was dressed as an angel sitting on Crowley’s shoulder, was much more forgiving than the real one. So, Crowley finally sat down next to Lucifer and got to see the look on Professor McGonagall’s face as she thought,  _ “I knew the peace wasn’t going to last.” _

After that day Crowley sat with Lucifer in every class they shared. 

Michael watched as Crowley sat with Lucifer and said nothing. She watched them laugh during class and said nothing. Michael had previously watched in silent approval when Crowley’s character had grown stronger during the time he was not Lucifer’s friend. She had begun to respect him solely because of that. She was disappointed when she saw Crowley relapse and befriend the Slytherin again. 

Michael saw that, after Lucifer and Crowley started sitting together in Fifth year, every Slytherin instantly stopped messing with the Ravenclaw. She saw that in every class, the Slytherin students would clear the way whenever Lucifer walked by. She observed, displeased, how every student in the school was aware of who Morningstar was. She watched, disgusted, as Lucifer’s popularity among Slytherins grew. 

She watched in silence when, as always, a group of younger girls from Slytherin cheered and fangirled for Lucifer while he smiled at them in the Dueling Club. She stayed silent, observing, not able to understand how people could fear him or find him charming. Michael could only see a whining self-entitled prat who thought he was better than everybody. 

Michael watched Crowley and Lucifer closely, and her respect for Crowley gradually disappeared and began to be replaced with disappointment. As Lucifer taunted other students, Crowley tried to pretend that he didn’t approve, but Michael knew that it was a lie. She watched as Lucifer and the Hell Gang picked on Sandalphon, a Slytherin who was friends with Gryffindors, and Crowley did nothing. She watched as Lucifer bared his fangs and threatened students that were messing with his Ravenclaw and Crowley enjoyed it. Michael watched as dangerous rumours about Lucifer began to spread, and he did nothing to stop them, as he enjoyed the fear .

Every food chain has its apex predator, and every apex predator has its pack. Michael watched how the Hell Gang stalked the halls. She was disappointed that even Ravenclaw students were intimidated by them and she was disappointed that Crowley could not hide that he enjoyed being part of it. 

Aziraphale was standing in a hallway overlooking the garden.

“Lucifer is going to be dangerous, Aziraphale,” Michael said. “Are you going to do something to get Crowley out of the snake pit or are you going to keep ignoring it?”

Aziraphale fidgeted with his ring, as he did whenever he felt anxious. Uriel and Sandalphon looked at him sternly. Gabriel sighed and, to encourage Aziraphale, said, “Rumours are spreading about him using dark arts...”

“We saw him dueling and he is not using dark arts.” Uriel cut him off.

“He isn’t stupid enough to use dark magic in front of professors.” Gabriel said, “But there are rumours, and Lucifer loves rumours about himself, especially ones like that. He is definitely fueling that fire.”

“Whether he is using them or not isn’t important,” Michael said, “A group of Slytherins with delusions of grandeur is still a bad omen. No offense, Sandalphon.” 

“I’m not offended.”

“I don’t know what  _ I  _ can do.” Aziraphale said, still fidgeting with his ring, his hands behind his back, feeling very out of place with a group of people that weren’t his friends. Michael had asked him to come. She had said,  _ “I’m concerned about Crowley,” _ and Aziraphale agreed to go with her immediately.

“Use your head, Aziraphale, make Crowley realize Lucifer is not his friend. He is just manipulative. You saw how Lucifer acted when you took his favourite toy away.” Michael said, “If you don’t do something now, Lucifer is going to break him.”

“I will keep that in mind.” Aziraphale said shyly, Gabriel spoke before Michael could lose her temper.

“I told you he was too soft. Come on, let’s go.” Gabriel, Sandalphon and Uriel walked away, but Michael stayed with him for a moment.

“Lucifer is going to be dangerous. I don’t mean, _‘I’ll steal your boyfriend and kill_ _you socially’_ dangerous. I’m meaning real danger. I’m not telling you this because I care about Crowley. I’m telling you because you care about him, and because I care about Lucifer being a threat. Crowley is intelligent but naïve and that’s why Lucifer wants him. If you don’t want Crowley to end up in Azkaban with the snake prince, do something while you can.” And then, giving him a severe look, she left.

Crowley promised Aziraphale that even if he sat with Lucifer in their classes it didn’t mean that he was going to be his friend again or that he was going to start hanging out with him out of class. He tried. He still spent much more time with Aziraphale than with Lucifer or the Hell Gang. But he also missed his old friends, and by the last week of November Crowley was already in the Slytherin Common Room with Lucifer. 

That week Aziraphale was in the library sorting books as he usually did, and Crowley and Lucifer were spending their free time writing an essay for their Defense Against Dark Arts class in the Slytherin Common Room. 

“I need a favour,” Crowley said.

“Whatever you need Raphael, you just need to ask,” Lucifer said without looking at him. He was fully immersed in writing the essay and nothing anybody could say would distract him.

“It’s something illegal.” 

Lucifer lifted his head quickly, forgetting all about his essay. “Unexpected, but very welcome. Tell me more.” He leaned toward Crowley with a malicious grin.

“I need to buy some things in Knockturn Alley, and I need your help. Can you arrange that?” Lucifer absolutely could do it. 

“What do you need?” Lucifer whispered. The good thing about being in the Slytherin Common Room was that there were fewer people than in the library. The bad thing was that the echo didn’t make it the best place to discuss illegal purchasing.

“I’ve been studying,” Crowley whispered.

“Duh,” he mocked.

“Shut up. I’ve been reading an old uncensored Herbology book Aziraphale found for me in the Restricted Section. It has a full description on how to become an Animagus. But I don’t have all the things here.”

“Write a list. I’m in.” Lucifer responded, with an eager spark in his eyes. Crowley wrote the list on a piece of paper.

“Listen, I need to put a mandrake leaf in my mouth and not talk for a full month. If you can convince Beelzebub to arrange a potion that makes me seem like I have a sore throat I can go to the infirmary, fool them, and have an excuse for not talking in classes. This is where I need you more than anything to cover for me. I could easily say, ‘my throat hurts,’ to professors and get on with it . ” 

“You’re going to do this here at school?” Lucifer was impressed.

“It’s going to be easier here. We can pull it off. We share a lot of classes, and you can talk for me.”

“I can arrange to get all of this next week.” Lucifer said reading the list. “Come with me to Hogsmeade. But if you succeed and we pull this you’re off you’re covering me next month to do the same.”

“I would have been really worried if you  _ didn’t _ expect me to help you.”

It has been just two months since they were trying to be friends again and Crowley was already asking him to do something illegal. Lucifer was delighted.

“What about the Hufflepuff?” Also, since it had only been two months, Crowley didn’t expect Lucifer to really try that hard to call Aziraphale by his name, but at least he wasn’t directly insulting him. By Lucifer’s standards that was an advance. Aziraphale has been upgraded from  _ The Thing _ to  _ The Hufflepuff _ . Crowley considered it a small victory.

“This is the most illegal thing I ever did. Aziraphale is not going to approve of it. He will probably get angry, maybe not talk to me for a day. He’ll survive.”

“So, I will get to be your official best friend for a day?” Lucifer teased, pushing his luck a bit, but Crowley didn’t look at him. “It was a joke Raphael. I’m sor–”

“How can I repay you, Lucifer?” Crowley didn’t want Lucifer to apologize. He wanted things as they were before.

“Are we friends?”

“Yes Lucifer, of course we are.”

“Then that’s everything I need, Raphael.” Lucifer said after a moment of silence. They regarded each other with a smile of sincere affection. “But if you want to do my Herbology essay, just to show me what _ good friends we are _ , I wouldn’t mind at all.” Crowley chucked; there he was, the old Lucifer.

“Sure. Do you want a perfect score, or a nearly perfect score as the final grade?”

“Make it a good grade, but less than perfect, as if I had gotten help, but not as if I cheated. Don’t be that obvious. And I want a butterbeer too.”

“You’re the devil.” Crowley laughed genuinely for the first time in a long time with Lucifer. Maybe they could really pull it off. Not only to be Animagi, but also to be friends again.

Walking down the corridor, Aziraphale asked, “Is there something in specific that you want to eat tomorrow, dear?” 

Aziraphale and Crowley had a picnic by the lake at 4 pm every Tuesday. Neither of them was sure how this tradition had begun but neither of them wanted it to stop.

“I don’t know angel, whatever you want will be alright,” he said nervously. 

“About the picnic, Aziraphale,” Aziraphale looked at Crowley, somewhat suspiciously. Usually Crowley called him Aziraphale instead of angel when he was angry or when he was ready to confess that he had screwed something up and felt guilty. “Is it ok if we have the picnic a little bit later? I need to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow and I don’t know how long it will take me. I don’t think it takes me more than a few hours; I should be back by 6.”

“Oh dear, that is no problem at all. I can go with you if you want.” Aziraphale said, relieved that Crowley didn’t have detention or something like that.

“Yeah, about that, I’m going with Lucifer.”

Aziraphale said _“Oh”._ He sounded incredibly hurt. He would have liked it more if Crowley _did_ have detention instead. Crowley rapidly tried to make excuses for himself, “We need to buy some things for some classes… eh… from the apothecary … for potions and….”

“Right dear, yes,” Crowley may have acquired some of Lucifer’s traits after all these years, but clearly the ability to lie wasn’t one of them. “We should cancel the picnic. If you’re going to Hogsmeade it is better for you to take your time; don’t worry.”

“You’re angry. It was a bad idea, I’m sorry angel. I swear I will be back by 6.”

“No dear, please, there is no need to apologize, I’m not angry. I insist, take your time, and enjoy the day in Hogsmeade. We can have the picnic on Sunday; we have done it before. There is nothing wrong with that, nothing at all.” Crowley looked as Aziraphale took a cookie from his pocket as he usually did, because one could never know when one could get peckish, and munched it with more force than usual, as if the cookie had offended him in some personal way. Aziraphale was disappointed that the cookie didn’t have Lucifer’s face.

“He is absolutely furious,” Crowley said, looking for books in a shop-window. “Should I bring him an apology gift?” Lucifer rolled his eyes and grabbed him by the arm.

“Why don’t we first buy all the things we need, try to do it as fast as we can and then maybe, if you stop wasting time, you can be at the Castle by 6. Come on, Raphael, the man said we need to get them today or no deal.” 

Crowley followed Lucifer blindly, as he did during the first years of school. Knockturn Alley wasn’t a recommendable place for young students to be wandering around. Crowley wouldn't have been there if it weren’t absolutely necessary. Lucifer Morningstar was another story; he walked confidently down the narrow path. One old blind witch tried to sell him an apple but desisted when she heard his voice.

“Oh, young Master Morningstar, my apologies, I didn’t know it was you. Send my regards to your father please,” she said, hiding her apples and backing up against the wall to make room for them to pass. Crowley thought she looked scared.

“It is always good to see you, Dorothea,” Lucifer said, walking away with Crowley following him. Crowley was holding onto Lucifer’s Slytherin scarf as if it was the only thing that prevented him from being eaten by a dragon.

Finally, after many turns through narrow alleys and more people staring at them but not saying a word, they arrived at a dilapidated shop. It smelled like rotten meat and sweat, the windows were dirty, and the walls were cracked and full of fungi. 

“Young Master Morningstar. Come in, come in. Your father said you were coming.” A man who looked older than he probably was, greeted them. His grey hair was greasy and one of his eyes wandered in all directions while the other was staring at them intensely. “This is your package. Your father already paid for it. May I offer you something more?”

Lucifer took the package and passed it to Crowley to examine. “Is everything there?” he asked, and Crowley nodded. “Do you want to look for anything else?” 

Crowley knew that he should say no. The imaginary Aziraphale on his shoulder was screaming,  _ “NO! NO, NO, NO, NO, ABSOLUTELY NOT! This shop is certainly illegal! You should leave right now!”  _ but Crowley wanted so badly to say yes. When would he have another chance?

Finally, by 7 pm, they left the rundown and smelly shop. Crowley had designed a bag during the holidays last year that looked small, but inside had enough room to carry all the things they bought. He couldn’t be more grateful that Aziraphale was so loved by Madam Pince that he was able to get that book. And he was grateful to Lucifer’s father, who always indulged the two boys whenever they asked for money to do some mischief. Mr. Morningstar sent a letter to his son the next day telling him to have fun with whatever they were up to and sending his regards to Raphael. He didn’t need to remind Lucifer not to tell his mother.

But before that, still in Knockturn Alley, Crowley grabbed Lucifer by the arm.

“Do you want to grab that butterbeer I owe you, Lucifer?”

“Don’t you need to get back to the Castle for your picnic?” Crowley rolled his eyes and gestured to him to start walking. If they returned now, they were going to get to Hogwarts by 8.

“Lucifer be honest. Do you really care?” Aziraphale wasn’t going to be angrier than he already was, and the picnic would have to be rescheduled anyway. Right now, Crowley wanted to finally sort things out with Lucifer. If he wanted the Slytherin to talk, he needed a place where no other students could see them.

“No. In fact, I don’t.” One thing that we should give Lucifer credit for is that he always spoke frankly. Most people don’t believe it, but Lucifer Morningstar had never told a lie in all his life. But of course, lying is not the same as manipulating the truth. 

“Then butterbeer it is.” Crowley said following Lucifer again down the narrow path, but instead of holding onto his scarf, Crowley held on to Lucifer’s arm, walking by his side. But before going to drink butterbeer they made a stop at Honeydukes.

By the fifth butterbeer in The Three Brooms, they already had missed dinner in the Castle.

“The elves know me,” Crowley said. “When we’re back in the Castle I can ask them for something to eat if you want.”

“Why don’t we eat something here instead of the Castle? Ask for whatever you want, my treat.”

“You’re spoiling me today, Lucifer.”

“Do you want me to stop, Raphael?”

“Of course not. I’m going to take advantage of your guilt while I can.” They kept laughing, and they were already a little tipsy when the Slytherin came back with two shots of Firewhiskey. In the meantime, when Lucifer left the table, Crowley had time to think.

“Do you mean it, Lucifer?” 

“Mean what?”

“That you missed me. That you wanted to be my friend again.”

“You’re wasted Raphael, give me that shot.”

“Is that a yes or a no, Lucifer?” Crowley may have been drunk, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t serious. Lucifer knew that when Raphael Crowley asked you something he wouldn’t stop asking until you answered.

“Do you still doubt me?” And Crowley knew that Lucifer Morningstar was a proud prick who liked to answer questions with more questions (one thing  _ he _ had learned from being friends with the Ravenclaw for so many years), so he could avoid saying something embarrassing.

“In my defense, you have always been, and are, and probably will continue to be, a totally manipulative piece of shit.” Lucifer agreed and Crowley continued, “But you’re also a good friend. And I missed you. I missed being like this with you too. And if we are going to be friends again, I want you to be honest with me.”

Lucifer groaned, he didn’t want to be honest or talk about  _ f e e l i n g s. _ Groaning again, he emptied the rest of his butterbeer, and Crowley’s. There was an incredulous look on his face, but he made not a single complaint. He replied, “Right, I’m doing this. I’m saying this just one time Raphael, I missed you. I don’t think anyone else can be my best friend. I want us to be friends again. And Salazar please give me strength and forgive me for what I’m going to say. I am so fucking jealous of the Hufflepuff.”

Crowley tried to keep himself from laughing; Lucifer’s ego didn’t need another blow. The Slytherin sighed. “We didn’t need to come to the apothecary today exactly _together_ , but you have your stupid picnics every Tuesday and I wanted to be here with you.” Crowley's smile softened, his friend was really trying to not be a mess, even if he was.

“Well, today being Tuesday at 11 pm, I think you achieved your objective. Me not having the picnic and me being here with you  _ and _ me forgiving you.” Lucifer suddenly was a babbling mess.

“You know something Lucifer? I forgave you almost instantly after you apologized. And now I’m a little angry at Aziraphale. I mean, he is holding a grudge against you that is not even his. He needs to understand that I’m his friend and I’m yours too. I think you’re doing a better job accepting my friendship with him than he is doing accepting my friendship with you.” Lucifer stayed silent, playing with his glass still full of firewhiskey. 

“Just friends? Not best friends again?” It was difficult for Lucifer to collect himself enough to play it cool, he still failed miserably.

“Just friends Lucifer.”

“I can live with that.” Lucifer smiled at him; under the dim light Crowley couldn’t really tell but he could swear Lucifer’s eyes were shining. Not happy, not dangerous, but sad. Crowley knew better to say something that could injure Lucifer’s ego more. His friend composed himself enough to tease him again. “But do you know what I can’t live with?”

“What Lucifer? I’m all ears.” He smiled. 

“Can I ask you why you changed your name? Why do you want me to call you Raphael? By what I can recall, not even the Hufflepuff calls you that. I’m not complaining, simply curious.”

“Crawley was too Slytherin. I wanted to drag your ego across the floor in the most Ravenclaw way possible.” Lucifer _ouched_ ’ out loud exaggeratedly, joking with him. “And I always call you Lucifer. I was behind you all the time. I want us to be equals.”

“We are equals, Raphael.”

“Yeah? You sure you’re not going to yell at me if my Animagus form is a snake and yours isn’t?”

“You have my promise that I will not consider myself dragged to the bottomless pit of hell by a Ravenclaw. I will not be angry at you, neither will I yell at you again,” Lucifer said, raising his hand as if he was swearing. He continued, trying to lighten the mood. “But speaking of that, I still hold a grudge against you. You called me an asshole in Parseltongue. Badass move, I give you that, but I hate you.” 

Crowley laughed. “Do you hate me Lucifer? But I love you so much,” he mocked.

“Is that a confession, Raphael? Do you have a crush on me? That’s sweet,” he said sarcastically, teasing. Crowley drank his firewhiskey in one shot and leaned his head on Lucifer’s shoulder. 

“Would that bother you? Me having a crush on you?” Crowley teased back; Lucifer wasn’t prepared for that. His face was the same colour as Crowley’s hair.

“You’re so wasted. I’m taking you back to the Castle.”

“Don’t be a coward and answer my question, Lucifer,” Crowley said, pulling away and gesturing to Lucifer to drink his shot of firewhiskey. Lucifer looked at his glass uncomfortably; it is known that firewhiskey causes a burning sensation when drunk, and that it inspires courage. Lucifer needed the courage, but he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea.

“I would be delighted,” Lucifer said, after taking his shot and emptying it in one swallow. Lucifer’s throat was burning, his face was burning, his whole body was burning. Crowley’s hand played with Lucifer’s ponytail like he couldn’t keep still either. 

“Do you want to know something funny? I have a big crush on you, Raphael.” Crowley looked directly into his eyes, surprised and close, too damn close to him.

“If you have a  _ big _ crush on me, Lucifer, and I have a crush on you....” Crowley said, failing to keep his smile from growing. His body was burning too, his face red like the flames of his hair. Lucifer wanted to grab those red flames and bury his face in them. “Then why are you not kissing me right now?”

“Because,” Lucifer said, now with his hand full of red hair, pulling it softly, causing Crowley to turn his face directly towards him. “I’m not kissing you because I respect your boundaries,” he mocked, and Crowley laughed gleefully. Lucifer smiled. “You just need to request it Raphael, and I will move the skies, the oceans and the earth, just for you.” Looking directly into each other’s eyes they could feel the tension, fully palpable, filled with a terrifying silence.

“Kiss me.” Crowley ordered in the most serious tone he could manage. Lucifer didn’t need to be told twice.

It was a hungry, wet, messy kiss that quickly escalated to bites on the lips and on the throat and a lot of pulled hair.

“Just friends?” Lucifer managed to ask in between kisses.

“Just friends, Lucifer,” Crowley answered, closing his eyes when Lucifer changed his focus from his lips to his throat.

“I can live with that.”

“The fuck is this?!” Crowley’s shouts were the first thing Lucifer heard in the morning.

“It's too early for me to open my eyes.” Lucifer was hit on the head with a pillow. “ _ Oh _ .”

_ Oh _ was the sound Lucifer made once he opened his eyes.  _ Oh _ was also the sound that anybody would make when the first thing you saw in the morning was your best friend, in your room, dressed in your green pajama shirt, fully covered in purple and scarlet bite marks. It was the first time since Fourth year that Crowley had been in his room – and in his bed. Merlin knows Lucifer had made every second count.

Ligur and Hastur were used to Lucifer and Crowley sharing a bed during Third year. Honestly, it was quite weird for two boys to sleep together in a bed, but the Gang brushed it off, knowing that eventually Lucifer and Crowley would accept that they were dating. During Fourth year it became alarmingly weird and nobody in the Hell Gang could believe them when they said that it was just a platonic friendship.

Coming back to the Castle from the Three Brooms was something that Lucifer later described as an  _ experience. _ Lucifer knew what he  _ wanted _ to do but he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to do it. It was better not to push Crowley too far. Crowley, on the other hand, just dragged him to the Slytherin Common Room because, “My room is on the other end; yours is closer and it’s too late. Shadwell could find me.” Lucifer didn’t offer too much resistance. 

When they opened the door of Lucifer’s room Ligur was still awake, Hastur asleep. The sudden embarrassment was enough to sober Crowley on the spot. 

“You have to be kidding me.” Ligur groaned walking out of the room. “I’ll give you half an hour only. Unbelievable. Wait until Hastur hears this; he will go nuts. Don’t make too much noise.” 

They didn’t make noise because they didn’t do anything more than some awkward cuddling, stroking and a few silent kisses. When Ligur came back to the room they were asleep. 

“I told you I was jealous. You know I can be possessive.” Lucifer said, bringing Crowley back to reality.

“You. Fucking. Dick.” Crowley shouted, hitting Lucifer again with a green pillow in between punctuations.

“Is that an insult or a fantasy?” He only received more insults and more pillow hits.

After hitting Lucifer until he wasn’t angry anymore, Crowley dressed himself. He looked at the mirror one last time and erased all the bite marks that could be seen with his wand.

“What a shame. They suited you.” Lucifer said, still lying in bed dressed only in his pajama pants. 

“You should do the same.”

“Nah, I don’t think I will.” 

Crowley groaned. He had forgotten how difficult it was dealing with Lucifer sometimes. 

It was still early, 6 am or so, and Crowley was ready to leave the room when Lucifer spoke in an anxious rush. “Would you consider wearing my scarf again if I give it to you? I didn’t lie when I said green suits you better than blue.” After that night Lucifer decided he needed to call all the shots. 

“I’m a Ravenclaw.” Crowley raised a brow, but inwardly he was considering it.

“I’m not asking you to only dress in Slytherin clothes. I like how my scarf looks on you, that’s all.

“Don’t give it to me. Lend it to me when I’m cheering for you in the Dueling Tournament this year.” Lucifer ran to kiss him, but Crowley had already opened the door to leave the room. “Cheering for you as your friend, Lucifer. Now get dressed. I’ll see you in class.” Crowley closed the door before someone could see him. He cursed himself internally and decided that he should stop drinking firewhiskey when he was with Lucifer.

Even though he thought he could leave unobserved, the first thing Crowley saw when he stepped out of Lucifer’s room were Dagon and Beelzebub waiting for him. They had been awakened last night by Ligur and they wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.

“Good morning Crowley.” Dagon winked at him very exaggeratedly while giving two thumbs up.

“Did you sleep well?” Beelzebub was barely containing their laugh. 

Crowley left with his face as bright red as his hair.

It was early but Aziraphale was always one of the first students in the Great Hall, and always one of the last to leave. Crowley sat in front of him with a full bag of cookies he had brought in Honeydukes the day before. Aziraphale was reading a Muggle book. Crowley recognized the author as Oscar Wilde, one that Aziraphale told him about a couple of days ago but he still hadn’t read. He made a mental note to read it as soon as possible so he could talk with Aziraphale about Wilde and try to convince the Hufflepuff to forgive him more easily. 

Aziraphale loved reading and loved books. The difference between loving books but not always having good grades is when you love to read things that are not necessarily the ones you have to study. It wasn’t that Aziraphale didn’t have good grades, he did very well in Divination, and he was skilled in Enchantments, Runes and Defense Against Dark Arts, even better than Crowley. 

Aziraphale was many things: kind and intelligent, pure and polite, but even he had his good days and bad days.

He was also strong, independent, and even if he looked like a cinnamon roll, he was the best duelist in Hufflepuff. Professor Sprout, the head of Hufflepuff House, and Professor Baxter of the Dueling Club, tried to convince him to join the Dueling Club, but Aziraphale kindly declined the offer every time. He was good at dueling, but that didn’t mean he liked it. 

Aziraphale was everything that Lucifer wasn’t. Aziraphale was humble, someone who always respected the rules and was unprejudiced. And also, right now, Aziraphale was furious at Crowley.

“I want to apologize,” Crowley said. Even if Aziraphale’s expression didn’t show the fierce rage inside him, the cold treatment he was giving Crowley was clear enough in its meaning.

“There’s nothing you should apologize for, Crowley. I already told you we could reschedule the picnic.” Aziraphale said without looking up from the book, still drinking his cocoa. “I didn’t see you at dinner last night. Was everything okay?”

“Angel, would you please put the book down and look at me?” Crowley said after drinking his third glass of water. Aziraphale didn’t need to ask to know that Crowley had the biggest hangover of his life. He sighed.

“Yes dear, of course. Tell me.”

“I know it is not only the picnic that made you angry. Yes, you’re angry. Don’t give me that look. Aziraphale I need you to understand that Lucifer is not a bad person, not the best person alive because that’s  _ your _ title, obviously. But he is my friend, and you must deal with that. You are the kindest and most forgiving person I know; you know Lucifer can’t beat you at that.  _ You _ are my best friend, do you understand?  **_You_ ** _ are my best friend _ . You don’t have to like him; you don’t have to be Lucifer’s friend; you only have to be mine. So, are we good?” 

Aziraphale was impressed that Crowley could make that speech, as hungover as he was. He smiled, taking the hand Crowley was offering to him. 

“Yes, my dear, of course I forgive you.” 

“Great! But prepare yourself because you won’t believe what I have to tell you,” he said with a wide apologetic smile. 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and his smile disappeared. Holy mother of – 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it was a reference to Mean Girls. Yes, Lucifer is Regina George. No, don’t @ at me. 


	6. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Animagus enchantments have gone badly and now Crowley has to deal with a more insufferable Lucifer and a jealous Aziraphale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: Language; mild sexual innuendos, mention of scars, but without description. And enjoy the Ineffable Husbands fluff <3

“So, let me sum this up to make sure I got everything.” Aziraphale said, sitting up straighter on the grass. It was 5 pm and they were having their weekly picnic in the fields outside the Castle. Aziraphale hadn’t touched the cookies. Crowley was lying on the blanket in a chaotic pose; he looked more like a pile of limbs arranged in a weird Picasso painting than a person. It couldn’t be comfortable. 

“You and Lucifer bought mandrake leaves, among other things, because you _made me_ _loan_ you a book that you _knew_ had a tutorial on how to become an Animagus; something that is strictly prohibited by law, especially to us who are underage, I must add. 

“And you are going to do it here, at the school, and Lucifer is going to cover you for a full month because you have to put a mandrake leaf in your mouth. And, if you succeed, you are also going to cover him for a month so he can do the same. Did I forget anything, dear boy?”

“Yes, you forgot the part where I said that you’re the most amazing person I’ve had the pleasure to meet and that I adore you more than anything in this world and I hope you’re not angry with me.”

“Right, that part Crowley, how could I forget about it?” Aziraphale said sarcastically, leaning back against the tree behind him. “When are you two starting?”

“After Christmas.”

“Then, for a whole month I need to use Lucifer as if he were an owl to talk to you?”

“I know that one month without hearing my voice will be a torture for you, Aziraphale, so I decided that we, you and I, without Lucifer, should stay at Hogwarts during Christmas and spend it together. What do you think?” Aziraphale tried to stay annoyed for at least a couple more minutes but his smile was beaming so brightly that it gave him away.

“That would be lovely, dear.”

When Lucifer and the other students went home for the holiday season to be with their families, Aziraphale and Crowley stayed at the Castle. They were enjoying the peace at Hogwarts when it wasn’t full of students. 

With fewer students, the Headmaster had designated some classrooms to be small common spaces for students of different Houses to stay warm and be with their friends. Aziraphale was sitting in the most proper way possible, back straight on a sofa, drinking a mug of cocoa. Crowley was lying comfortably on the same sofa in his usual sprawl. His legs draped over Aziraphale, and they were sharing a tartan blanket with Hufflepuff colours. Aziraphale and Crowley had claimed the sofa and a table near a fireplace. There were various other students in the room, and it was peaceful and warm.

On top of the little table that Crowley had claimed there were two little gifts and Crowley’s glasses. One of the gifts was rectangular, neatly wrapped in dark blue paper with a tartan bow on top. The other was much smaller, wrapped in cream-coloured paper. It looked as if it was wrapped by someone who had forgotten that he could do magic, tried to wrap it by hand and failed miserably while having a nervous breakdown. _“My hands are fucking useless! Aziraphale deserves better!”_ At least the bow on top was pretty. 

By 11:46 Crowley had already looked at the clock over the fireplace twelve times in three minutes. 

“Crowley you’re going to break the clock if you keep staring at it as it had committed a murder,” Aziraphale said, finishing his mug of cocoa and putting it down.

“Ngk. I want it to be Christmas already. I can’t wait for you to open your present.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes; patience wasn’t one of Crowley’s strong points. Aziraphale really doubted that Crowley could manage to shut his mouth and spend a whole month waiting in silence. Finally, Aziraphale decided to indulge, and with a wave of his wand, both gifts were in their respective laps. Ten minutes more, ten minutes less, it was Christmas either way.

“But you have to open yours first, dear.”

Crowley opened the neatly wrapped present to find a book with a green cover with illustrations of flowers inside. On the back of the title page he read that it was published in 1743.

“I know you already had one copy, but this is unedited, the original names and descriptions of plants are truly colourful. I thought you would enjoy it.” Crowley, wide-eyed, searched for a specific page and plant. 

Wayne Blankenship was known as one of the best herbologists in the United Kingdom, but also as one of the most imaginative when it comes to naming plants. So, Crowley rejoiced when he found the  _ “thefucketyfuckedupplant” _ ’ and the  _ “thisabsolutelydoesnotlooklikeapenis” _ –and under that, in the description it reads  _ “I lied, this absolutely looks like a penis. This plant is highly venomous, so if someone is foolish enough to put it in their mouth, have the antidote at hand BEFORE doing it.” _ ’ Below that were instructions on how to make the antidote. 

If you wanted to buy that book today you only could find the censored versions with boring names like  _ Silver Hen Leaf _ or  _ White Goat Hood. _ Crowley loved the gift, now he was feeling that the one he gave Aziraphale wasn’t enough compared to this.

“Do you like it, dear?”

“Are you kidding? This is the best gift ever angel. Ngk, I don’t know if I still want to watch you open yours.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m sure it’s wonderful,” Aziraphale said, unwrapping his gift carefully, trying not to tear the paper. Under all the mess was a little red box. Opening it, Aziraphale found a precious white locket with angel wings engraved on it. Inside it was empty.

“I thought to engrave angel wings because it was the name of the plant you nearly killed and, well, engraving a plant was difficult; and I call you angel so.... Oh, also, the locket is for, uhm, for you to have some place to keep the star I made you. I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea. Of course, you don’t have to keep the star there; you can do whatever you want with it. If you don’t want to wear it that’s cool too. Oh, and…” Crowley said, avoiding looking at Aziraphale and searching for something in his robes. He missed wearing his glasses, he was so nervous and without the possibility to hide behind them he felt vulnerable. Finally, he pulled out a locket identical to Aziraphale’s.

“I made another star, in the same colour, so they are twin stars – it’s here in my locket. It’s like a best friend necklace? Like those Muggle ones you showed me last time that you can share and together they form the shape of a heart or something like that.”

By the end of Crowley’s rant Aziraphale was beaming and vibrating with joy. Aziraphale was good at controlling his emotions, except when he was overcome with happiness. If this moment had occurred when he was younger, he probably would have had flowers popping out of his ears and butterflies manifesting everywhere. Thankfully, he felt just a little lightheaded, and the only butterflies that were fluttering now were in his stomach. 

Aziraphale searched in his pocket for the star. He always kept it in his pocket since the day Crowley gave it to him. The only time he took it out was at night under his sheets when he couldn’t sleep. Or when Aziraphale needed light to read a book. Or any time Aziraphale missed Crowley. Now, with the locket around his neck, and with the star inside of it, Aziraphale hugged Crowley tightly and kissed him soundly on the cheek.

“See, dear? I told you, you were being silly. This is the most wonderful gift I’ve ever received, besides the star. Thank you.” Crowley made a happy ‘ _ ngk _ ’.

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” Lucifer said, burying his face in his hands. Christmas was over, everybody was at school again and Crowley had managed to put that leaf in his mouth and, amazingly, shut it and waited. “I hate you.”

The reward for his patience and determination was the body of a long black snake with a red belly. Crowley slithered on the floor attempting to dance, or to make the shape of a heart. Either way, he was failing at both things.

“I assure you that if I turn into a peacock, I’m changing my name and moving out of the country. Probably to some cave where I’ll live only with peacocks. I will turn myself into one and live there, nobody will ever find me.”

“Do you think I can teach you Parseltongue?” Crowley said, turning himself human again. “I tried to sssspeak to you, but you couldn’t understand me. Can Parseltongue be taught?”

“I think we have more urgent problems than that.”

Aziraphale and Lucifer had officially interacted only two times. 

The first time was in an empty classroom, to make sure that when Crowley put the mandrake leaf in his mouth, he wouldn’t die from the Animagus potion, and today. After the first day Aziraphale didn't need Lucifer to be Crowley’s owl. Crowley could talk as long as the mandrake leaf didn’t fall out of his mouth. Barely, like a babbling baby, but after a couple of hours one could get used to it and even understand him. Sometimes.

Today, instead, Lucifer walked towards him and whispered, “ _ follow me,” _ managing to not look as if they were talking. Aziraphale knew something was wrong. He gave Lucifer time to get a head start, and then he followed. Just because they shared a friend didn’t mean that  _ they _ had to be friends. Lucifer didn’t want to be seen interacting with a Hufflepuff, and Merlin forgive him, Aziraphale didn’t want to be seen near Lucifer either. 

Ten minutes later, Aziraphale and Lucifer were entering the same unused classroom together where they had their first official interaction and where now there was nothing more than a scared snake curled in a corner.

Something had gone very wrong and now Crowley couldn’t stop hissing in his human form. But it wasn’t only that. Crowley's eyes had always been hypnotic, a warm shade of amber, an exotic and intoxicating shade of amber. Now, when Crowley turned himself human again, Aziraphale gasped as he saw that specific shade of amber, that beautiful, shining amber eyes with slitted pupils. Crowley had the eyes of a snake.

“I think it makes you look sexier.” Lucifer said, ruining the moment.”

“Thank you, Lucifer, but I don’t think that  _ ‘Lucifer Morningstar is aroused by my eyes _ ’ is reason enough for not being thrown into Azkaban.”

“Stop it right there, drama queen, the Ministry is not sending you to Azkaban just for this,” He responded. Aziraphale sighed. He had been there only fifteen seconds and he was already fed up with this.

“Why didn’t you go to the infirmary?”

“Yeah, great idea Fell,” Lucifer said and started imitating Crowley’s voice “ _‘Hello Madam, yes, I’m Raphael Crowley. Yes, I ate illegal plants and now my eyes are weird, and I can’t stop hissing. Please could you confirm that I’m not venomous?_ _Yes, I knew what I was doing, obviously I did, I kept it there FOR A MONTH. Yes, I know it’s illegal. Yes madam, I was underage as well. Yes madam, without the proper supervision of a responsible adult.’_ Great, amazing, fantastic, wonderful, _marvelous_ idea Fell, why didn’t we think of it?”

“Could you two sssssstop fighting with each other?”

“Why don’t you just use your glasses to cover your eyes, dear? I mean, you use them all the time anyway. Make them black or enchant them to make your eyes look human. I’m sure none of the teachers will ask you to take them off.” Lucifer wanted to argue against this but there was some truth there.

“I don’t want to agree but it could be a good idea.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes with so much force they nearly got stuck behind his head. “Now you only need to stop hissing, and make sure nobody sees your pretty tongue.”

In addition to the hissing and the eyes, Crowley’s tongue was forked in both his snake form and his human form. (Before going to get Aziraphale, Lucifer had taken the time to enumerate, in the most detailed and colourful manner, everything he considered necessary to inform Crowley about what he could do with his new tongue.)

“Lussssssifer I really hope that your Animagussss form does turn out to be a peacock, so you grow feathersssss in your ssssstupid assssssssss and fly away.” 

“Will that arouse you Raphael?”

“Go to hell.”

“Come with me.” 

“UGH. Sssssstop it.”

While Lucifer and Crowley fought Aziraphale didn’t say a word, he just rolled his eyes again, and again trying to ignore how shamelessly Lucifer was flirting. And how oblivious Crowley was, or tried to be. 

“When I read that Animagi shared traitssss of their animal form in their human form I didn’t think they would be physsssical likenesssesss, but other characteristics. Like, bananassss!” Lucifer and Aziraphale looked at him in confusion. “My point issss bananasss! Like, craving bananasss if you were a gorilla or sssssomething like that, not physsssical traitssss like thisss.” Crowley said, finally getting up from the floor and walking around the room. He had asked Aziraphale to come because he thought that  _ maybe _ three heads would be better than two. But it turned out that they were just three dummies. 

Crowley became concerned, they were too quiet suddenly; they were looking at each other worriedly. Not trying to kill each other, not saying mean things to each other, they were  _ looking _ at each other. Crowley felt his heart miss a beat. “What issss it?”

“Rock, paper, scissors. The loser tells him.” Lucifer offered.

“Deal.” Aziraphale said. Neither of them wanted to look at Crowley. Lucifer got paper, Aziraphale scissors “I won. You do it.”

“Best of three?” Lucifer was still ignoring Crowley. The Ravenclaw shouted at them to tell him what was happening, but neither of them wanted to tell him that he walked as he had no hip bones. Or that he had no idea how knees work.

“Keep dreaming, Morningstar.”

“Jusssssst tell me already!”

“You walk as if you had a pendulum between your legs,” Lucifer began, “and as if an invisible force were pulling you by the dick.”

“How do you come up with those things?” Aziraphale asked, not knowing if he felt amazed or worried. Crowley decided that the best thing to do in that situation was to turn himself into a snake again, and start eating himself from the tail to the head until he could disappear. Aziraphale had to physically stop him. Lucifer also helped, but in his own chaotic way.

“Better learn quickly how to control your hissing because I’m not letting you fall alone,” he said, putting a mandrake leaf in his mouth. Clearly Lucifer wasn’t the cleverest one in the room, but it can’t be said that he didn’t have good intentions.

A month later, Lucifer had to learn how not to walk like a prideful bird himself, as if an invisible force were dragging him by the neck. He also was looking for a cozy farm where he could raise peacocks. Crowley refused to write with anything that wasn’t his new quill pen made from one of his colorful feathers.

“I need a favour.” It was common for Lucifer and Crowley, when they were studying in the Slytherin Common Room – the worst place to try to whisper secret plans – to say  _ ‘I need a favour,’  _ and then proceed to whisper their secret plans without waiting for a confirmation. It was Lucifer’s turn to ask. “It involves breaking a lot of rules.”

“I’m counting on that. I’m already in. Ask.”

“I need a book from the restricted section.” Crowley looked at Lucifer for a second, and then looked back to his book.

“Write it down, I’ll ask Aziraphale tomorrow.” 

“I would like it if you don’t. Keep it a secret.” They shared a complicit look. Crowley’s studies could wait.

“Gotssha.”

Asking Aziraphale to borrow old books from the restricted section about stars or herbology (that just  _ happened  _ to have the instructions on how to become an Animagus) was one thing. And to convince the librarian to loan him those books took around two months. Now the book Lucifer wanted was just a _ little bit _ more difficult and they couldn’t ask Aziraphale to request it. Madam Pince wouldn’t loan Restricted Section books easily at the best of times, much less books about dark arts. 

Crowley hissed as he turned himself into a human and grabbed the book. He had been slithering around the shelves searching for the book Lucifer wanted. It was two in the morning and at his right a book hissed back at him. Crowley’s heart skipped a beat, but after a moment of hesitation he decided that the risk he was taking was really too much for just one book. So he opened the hissing book. Taking two books seemed more fitting than just one.

By 3:33 Crowley found Lucifer walking through the corridor searching for him.

“You idiot, I thought they caught you.” Crowley shushed him and gave him three books. Crowley had left the library with not one, not two, but six books in his hands. Walking alone in the hallway like that wasn’t a good idea. It was good that Lucifer had been looking for him. And even if they got to the Slytherin Common Room safely, Lucifer scolded him.

“If I knew you were gonna be such an idiot. I would have come with you; and asked for more books.”

“You can ask for more books and come with me next week, Lucifer.”

“Have I told you how much I love you Raphael?”

Lucifer and Crowley spent the following months sneaking into the library at night to “borrow” every book from the Restricted Section they could get their hands on. The books were always put back in place when they had finished them, and Lucifer enchanted a trunk in his room where they kept their notes. After a week, Ligur, Hastur and Eric joined their study group and later on, Dagon and Beelzebub as well, and asked for their own books to  _ borrow.  _

When Lucifer found a book called  _ ‘The Art of Designing a Spell,’  _ it was the best day of his Fifth year. He was so interested in the book that Crowley had to do their Transfiguration essay alone. Lucifer promised Crowley that he was going to name one spell after him to make it up, and buy him as much butterbeer he wanted the next time they went to Hogsmeade. Crowley didn’t complain but made him switch butterbeer for firewhiskey. 

Crowley found that designing his own things – like the stars or his glasses – was his favourite thing  to do as a pastime . He turned out to be a great inventor of minor inconveniences, from coins that would weigh more than an elephant the moment they fell on the floor and couldn’t be lifted again, to mirrors that showed the biggest, most yellow pimple in the center of your forehead when there wasn’t one there at all. Beelzebub was more inclined to potions, and Crowley helped them. Since he excelled in Herbology, he made sure their plants were always in perfect condition. Meanwhile Dagon, who was particularly good at runes, decided that she wanted to learn Mermish, Gobbledegook and other magical creatures’ languages .  Lucifer felt more attracted to books about Dark Arts. Crowley didn’t say anything about the first one, but after five books he became concerned.

“Read it.” Lucifer said very seriously. “Read it and then tell me if you are still worried about it. Because, let me tell you. All of this ‘Dark Arts are evil’ is bullshit. There are a lot of protection spells here. Imagine how incredible a duelist I can be if I can manage to do some of this. I’m not practicing the unforgivable curses. What do you think I am, an idiot?” 

“Yes.” Crowley mocked.

“Shut up.”

Crowley finally gave that book a chance, and recognized that Lucifer was right about it, but just that one. Lucifer continued to recommend more Dark Arts’ books to him. After the third one Crowley read, he gave in. Lucifer was right. Crowley still read books that weren’t about Dark Arts but would peek at Lucifer’s notes from time to time. Lucifer would say, _“I told you so,”_ every time he found Crowley peeking. 

It was already the end of May, and Crowley was spending more time in Lucifer’s room, even when Lucifer wasn’t there, than with Aziraphale.

“Beelzebub and I were thinking about going to Hogsmeade tomorrow. Do you want to come with us?” Lucifer said, leaning his head on Crowley’s shoulder. They were both sitting on Lucifer’s bed, reading. Crowley, sprawling as always, was occupying more space, Lucifer was cuddling against him.

“I don’t know Lucifer. I’m really close to finishing this.” 

“What is  _ this _ exactly?”

“It’s a secret. To be specific: a secret gift for you. But I suppose that if you don’t want me to finish it, I could go.”

“I’m starting to worry Raphael. You’re spending too much time with me; you’re getting better at manipulation,” Lucifer said standing from the bed. “I want my gift.”

“And you will have it, just give me a couple more days.”

“Take all the time you need. I’m going to eat dinner. Are you coming or do you want me to bring you up something?” Crowley cursed standing up and looking through the window.

“Is that late already? Ssssssshit.”

“Hufflepuff?” Lucifer asked, opening the door for him. Crowley nodded trying to dress with his cloak. “Run.”

“I’m sorry Aziraphale, I swear...”

“I know Crowley.” Aziraphale stopped him, he had already finished his dinner and had been ready to go to his room for half an hour already. “I know, dear, that your exams are harder than mine, and you are taking a lot of advanced classes. I know you and Lucifer share classes and of course you do the projects with him, and of course, that it’s sensible for you two to study together. I understand.” Aziraphale took a deep breath, Crowley sat at his side. 

“We can do whatever you want when you have more free time Crowley, don’t worry, I am not angry at you, dear. But maybe you could consider studying in the library instead of the Slytherin Common Room? You know I can reserve a table for the two of you away from the first-year students. I don’t mind if Lucifer is there with you. I want to see you a little bit more. It has been quite a while since we have spent time together.” Crowley's heart ached from seeing Aziraphale so sad. It really had been a long time. They’ve had to cancel their picnics plenty of times by now because Crowley was reading a lot of other books besides the ones he needed for his schoolwork and was getting behind in his classes. And, like right now, he was often late every time he and Aziraphale agreed to meet, even if it was just for dinner.

“We can’t go to the library, Aziraphale, I’m sorry. Lucifer’s room is the safest space for us to study and-” Crowley didn’t finish what he was about to say and covered his mouth with his hands as he suddenly realized that he had messed up.

“Lucifer’s room? I thought you were studying in the Common Room. Why are you studying in his room? Did you say it was  _ safe _ ? Crowley what are you doing?” Aziraphale shifted from sad cinnamon roll to jealous and worried cinnamon roll in a flash. 

“Sssshhhh Asssiraphale. Lower your voice. Let’s do something; spend time tomorrow with me. We can go to Hogsmeade. I sssswear I will explain everything to you there.”

Aziraphale looked at him, anxious and confused, he had a little voice that screamed every time Crowley was doing something dangerous. And now that voice was screaming and banging pans inside his head, making sure he was listening.

“So, you are the ones who are stealing from the library.”

They were sitting on a bench throwing bread to the ducks. The spring flowers were blooming, and the park was filled with people.

“We are not exactly stealing, we are borrowing. The books are always returned.” Aziraphale still looked anxious.

“Crowley, Madam Pince asked the Headmaster to put more security around the library. Stop entering the Restricted Section, please, those books that you were reading are dangerous.”

“They aren’t, Aziraphale. Magic is not evil or good by itself. It is how the spells are used that determines that.”

“Sure, Lucifer wants books about Dark Arts to remind himself how not to use them. How considerate of him.” Aziraphale didn’t want to fight, and he had already tolerated Lucifer for a long time. But this time Lucifer was stepping over the line. The Slytherin had already done it once and got away with it with no repercussions. Aziraphale wasn’t going to let him get away with it again. He looked both ways before whispering, “One of those books had the…”

“Yes, the unforgivable curses. I read it. Lucifer is not evil, Aziraphale!” He said, irritated. “If you think that because he studies Dark Arts he is evil you should think that about me too.” Aziraphale didn’t want to fight, and the restrained argument was escalating too quickly. Aziraphale thought Crowley was being naïve.

“And if he is so inoffensive, good, and harmless, dear, why are you covered in bruises and scars?” Crowley turned pale, but that didn’t stop him from becoming offended either. He didn’t need Aziraphale to take care of him as if he were some sort of damsel in distress. Crowley knew very well that Aziraphale was worried, but also that Aziraphale was directing that worry into thinking Lucifer was manipulating him. Crowley was fed up with Aziraphale thinking he was that naïve. 

“We are designing our own spells, and dueling. Some of mine had bad reactions, and Lucifer can’t practice his spells in the Dueling Club. I can’t cure all my bruises with magic because we don’t know how, and we can’t go to the infirmary. But they aren’t as dangerous as you think.” Seeing Lucifer with his face full of scars or his arms with bruises wasn’t new, it was one of the perks of being the unbeaten champion of the Dueling Club. But the thought of Crowley with scars was a horrible vision; Aziraphale had been distraught since the first one had appeared on Crowley’s cheek. Of course, he didn't have as many bruises as Lucifer had, but it was still upsetting Aziraphale to death.

“Crowley, that’s dangerous,” The Hufflepuff tried to appease him, not wanting to fight, but Crowley wasn’t listening. He wasn’t even looking at him, Aziraphale wanted to grab those damned glasses from Crowley’s face and throw them away, “You need the supervision of a professor.”

“We are our own teachers, Aziraphale!” Crowley shouted, scaring the poor ducks near them. “We have learned more in these three months than what I learned in five years in this school!” 

“And what spell did this?!” Aziraphale had patience, a lot of patience. But even the most patient and kind people had a limit. It was the first time ever that Aziraphale had raised his voice to Crowley. He grabbed Crowley’s arm, examining the scar on it, sick of him covering for Lucifer’s nonsense. Crowley didn’t try to move his arm, now ashamed but still firm in his opinion.

“Lucifer designed it,” he whispered.

_Of course Lucifer designed it,_ Aziraphale thought. It was the nastiest scar Aziraphale had ever seen. The first time he saw it was when the warm spring weather made Crowley roll up his sleeves, but not high enough so anybody else could see the scar. When he saw it, just for a moment before Crowley covered it again, Aziraphale felt his heart constrict. _Of course_ he couldn’t figure out which spell caused it, he hadn’t known that spell existed until now.

“ _ Sectumsempra, _ ” Crowley said, resigned. “It works like invisible swords. It had gone badly. After that he gave it up; there’s nothing to worry about. It was only a minor wound. It was just a one-time thing.”

“Sure, dear, completely safe and harmless. As innocent as I would expect coming from Lucifer Morningstar,” Aziraphale said, trying to calm himself. Crowley tried to say something but Aziraphale spoke first. “… And talking about the king of hell.”

Lucifer had an incredible knack for being able to show up at the precise moment, as if someone could tell him what was happening every second, at every place. He was just a couple of meters away from them, surrounded by the Hell Gang and other Slytherin students that Aziraphale couldn't recognize. Aziraphale recognized the “ _ I’m better than you’ _ ” smile that Lucifer wore, strutting around like the narcissistic peacock he was. But as well as being a peacock he was a Slytherin, and Lucifer made sure to remind Aziraphale about that by slithering around Crowley and leaning his head on his shoulder, hugging him from behind.

“I thought you refused to come with me so you could spend the day making  _ my _ gift.” 

Crowley sighed, not wanting to deal with Lucifer now. “There has been a change of plans.”

“I can see that.” he said, facing Aziraphale for a moment, his sarcastic grin completely erased. “It’s all good, you need fresh air. Also, Raphael, you left your books on my bed. Do you want me to wait for you today or are you coming after dinner?”

“Do whatever you want Lucifer.” Crowley could barely deal with one friend being jealous, he couldn't handle two at the same time.

“Oh, of course I will,” Lucifer said, licking his lips and pulling Crowley’s hair a little so they could face each other. “See you later,  _ starmaker _ .” 

And the same way he came, Lucifer left. Even from the back, his peacock strut left an  _ “I can’t deal with this while sober’ _ ” Crowley, and a speechless, red with rage, Aziraphale frozen on the spot. Until a month ago, Aziraphale was the only one who knew Crowley could make stars. He tried not to be jealous, he tried not to think that Crowley was making a star for Lucifer in the same horrendous colour of his lilac eyes. 

Aziraphale had no way to know that Lucifer started calling Crowley starmaker as he had made a spell that could use stars to defend himself, not because he decided to give Lucifer one lilac star. But Aziraphale was jealous anyway. Lucifer had crossed a line, rubbing that pet name in Aziraphale’s face, knowing very well what kind of reaction it would cause. 

Aziraphale took a few deep breaths before speaking in a very serene, but cold, tone.

“You keep saying that I am your best friend and Lucifer isn’t. Is it because I am truly your best friend, or I’m only your best friend because you’re dating Lucifer?” 

Crowley knew that Lucifer overstepped, and he would scold him as soon as he was back in the Castle. Now both of his friends were out of line. He could say a lot of things about Lucifer, but Aziraphale could be as manipulative as the Slytherin.

Crowley said, "Honestly Aziraphale, of all the people in the Castle, you were the last one I thought wouldn't trust me." Offended, he threw the bread a little more roughly at a duck than he intended.

Aziraphale, in the driest way possible, trying to stay calm, said, "Sure, dear". At hearing his tone, something inside Crowley snapped. Aziraphale tried to smile, to tell Crowley that of course he believed him, but Crowley was having none of it, not from Aziraphale. Aziraphale's eyes didn't lie, and that smile wasn't sincere. It was the last straw for Crowley.

Crowley exploded. "I'm not dating Lucifer!" Throwing the last of his bread at the pond, he walked away muttering to himself, doing a bad impression of Aziraphale, “ _ I'm only jist yi frind because yi datin Licifir. _ "

"Crowley, wait!" Aziraphale shouted as Crowley walked away, but he didn't turn back. Aziraphale fidgeted with his hands anxiously as he watched him leave. Wondering if it was a good idea to follow his friend or not, he decided to stay and give him space. "Well done Aziraphale. Great job, look at what you've done!" He said to himself, voice breaking.

A duck quacked and Aziraphale sat in the grass, knees to his chest and threw the last of his bread at it. He wondered if ducks could feel pity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *”The final countdown” playing in the distance* VIBECHECK BITCHES. OR DID YOU ALL FORGET THE TAGS SAY ANGST?


	7. Tea Leaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley receives a message and Aziraphale has a decision to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: None. Enjoy!

Aziraphale hadn’t seen Crowley for three days since the Hogsmeade argument at the pond, but neither did Lucifer.  _ “He is feeling sick, Professor Flitwick, nothing to worry about.” “It's just a little fever, Professor McGonagall.” “I’ll make sure he does his homework, Professor Dumbledore.” _ After the fourth day of covering for Crowley, Lucifer started to worry. On the fifth day Lucifer thought he was going crazy. He had woken up in the middle of the night, and he could swear that someone had called his name. 

“It must have been a dream…”

“Lucifer!” Someone whispered at his side. “Lucifer, I did it,” said Crowley’s head floating in the air.

“Did the elves enchant my food or…?” Lucifer said looking at the floating head.

“No, idiot. This is your gift.” Crowley said, now fully corporeal with a black cloth in his hands. “An Invisibility Cloak.”

It took a whole minute for Lucifer to comprehend what was happening. And even after that he wasn’t sure he was awake.

“I swear I could kiss you.”

“Get up Lucifer, I have so much more to show you.”

“You have  _ more _ ?”

“What do you think I was up to these last days?”

“Honestly, Raphael, I have no idea. Please, show me.”

“Where are we exactly going?” Lucifer said, under the Invisibility Cloak, but Crowley, slithering along the floor leading the way, was unable to speak in his snake form. After climbing five sets of stairs, turning two corridors to the left and one to the right, the door of the Room of Requirement opened in front of them.

“Aziraphale mentioned last year that he read in ‘History of Hogwarts’ about the room that comes and goes,” Crowley said, returning to his human body. “It’s filled with all the things we need. Beelzebub and Dagon can make their potions here, I could grow better plants for their potions as well as ones that are not allowed in the castle, and you have a safe space to practice dueling using the spells we are designing,” said Crowley. A cauldron appeared and recently added dueling racks with dummies.

“I made the cloak here, and also I made this for us.” He said, passing a folded paper to Lucifer, gesturing to him to open it. When Lucifer unfolded it, it was blank, but Crowley looked at him, expecting Lucifer to do something.

“Reveal your secrets.” The Slytherin said pointing at it with his wand. The paper began to ink itself and read, _“I would appreciate that Mr. Lucifer Morningstar keeps his feathered ass far away from where it is not called._ _Signed, The Starmaker._ ”

“It’s a jinx, to prevent anyone from seeing it unless they know the right words,” Crowley said with a victorious grin, then pointed his wand at the paper and said, _“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”_ And the map inked itself again, now showing a living map of Hogwarts. All the secret passages they had discovered were displayed on it and moving nametags of the people who were in the castle. 

Crowley was saying something about how he had made it when a desk appeared behind him, summoned by the intense desire to kiss him that Lucifer was radiating. Lucifer used all his will power to keep himself from lifting Crowley up on the desk and kissing him, but he did not have enough to walk away from him, not even an inch, and they were too close for his mental health.

“Aziraphale thinks we are dating,” Crowley said, catching Lucifer's attention again. He didn’t have the animated joy in his voice as when he was talking about the map. “You and me.”

“ _ Everyone _ in this school thinks we are dating Raphael.” Lucifer said laying his hands on the desk, without touching Crowley’s hips but close enough. Lucifer needed a way to support his shaking legs. His blood wasn’t reaching his brain.

“Are we dating, Lucifer?” If the desk weren’t magical Lucifer’s nails would have broken it with all the pressure he was exerting. His knuckles were white in contrast to his face, which was scarlet red. Crowley removed his glasses and grabbed Lucifer by the chin, making him look at the snakish eyes. “Are we?” 

“Only if you want.” Lucifer's voice came out higher pitched than usual, to stop himself from making an embarrassing squeak under Crowley’s intense gaze. With a little jump, Crowley was on the desk with his arms around Lucifer, and his legs between his own. Lucifer’s hands went around his back and Lucifer’s lips were on his.

“Is it official then?” Lucifer asked him when they were cuddling on a sofa that magically appeared. Crowley nodded with his head on Lucifer’s chest, feeling sleepy. “Are you telling the Hufflepuff?”

“If we are doing this Lucifer, you have to start, at least, calling him by his name.” Crowley said, tired of that childish rivalry. Lucifer made an exaggerated groan before kissing him on top of the head.

“Are you telling Aziraphale about this, Raphael?” 

Crowley thought about it for a long time. “Can we keep it a secret, for now?” 

Lucifer smiled at him, caressing Crowley’s hair. “We can do whatever you want, my Starmaker.”

Crowley had one of the worst sleep schedules known on earth. They had slept in the Room of Requirement, and when Crowley woke up, he was alone. In the room were only the sofa where he was sleeping and a table with a plate filled with food and a note. In perfect black calligraphy it read  _ “See you in class sleeping beauty; take your time, I’ll cover for you. Morningstar L.”  _

__

“Where is he?” Everybody knew Lucifer Morningstar wasn’t fond of anyone who wasn’t Slytherin, with just  _ one  _ exception. Everybody in the school suspected that Morningstar and Crowley had been dating since Fourth year. Others were bolder and were convinced they were dating since Third year. The ones that assured they were dating since Second were simply weird and nobody took them seriously. 

Everybody was placing bets about when Morningstar’s jealousy was going to overcome him, and he was going to challenge ‘The Hufflepuff’ to a duel. There was another bet about if Lucifer was going to challenge him to a duel or simply just stab him in the back when he saw the opportunity. Everybody was anticipating the day they could see these two interact. 

On April 14th at 2pm at the Slytherin table was the first time the school saw Morningstar, Lucifer from Slytherin and Fell, Aziraphale from Hufflepuff, finally interact directly with each other. Only four students won the bet about who would confront the other first.

Aziraphale approached the table and greeted Lucifer.

“I can’t remember when we agreed to talk to each other in public, Fell.” The sarcasm in Lucifer’s voice was almost palpable. 

“I enjoy talking to you as much as you do, Morningstar. You came here, grabbed a plate, disappeared and now here you are again. You have found Crowley, where is he?” 

“Should I be touched that you are stalking me with this intensity?” Lucifer said with his Morningstar trademark sarcastic smirk. Aziraphale was trying to contain himself; Morningstar had the audacity to not even look him in the eye. Aziraphale cursed him inwardly. “He found a new study nest and lost track of time. He came to me last night; he is probably still sleeping.”

“Where is he?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes, Aziraphale was starting to bother him and nobody dared to bother Lucifer Morningstar, ever.

“Just because I know where he is doesn’t mean I have to tell you. Now fuck off, I have a reputation to maintain.” Aziraphale only moved when Lucifer’s friends Ligur, Hastur, Beelzebub and two of his new friends that Aziraphale recognized as Asmodeus and Mammon, from Fifth and Fourth year respectively, stood up, wordlessly  _ inviting _ him to leave. Lucifer hadn’t bothered to look up at Aziraphale from his breakfast during the entire interaction and looked pleased with himself. Aziraphale left.

“Sorry? Saying sorry is not going to calm me. Crowley I’ve been worried sick! I couldn’t ask a teacher and Lucifer didn’t help either, as usual.”

“Look angel, I am really sorry. I promise, I will compensate you; give you anything you want in the world. And I promise I will not disappear again without telling you.”

“It’s not only about you, Crowley, there are rumours about Lucifer.” Crowley rushed to tell Aziraphale that he knew  _ all _ the rumours about him and Lucifer, but Aziraphale said, “No, not those rumours, Crowley. Other rumours, bad ones, about him.” Crowley groaned, he tried to act as if their fight at Hogsmeade hadn’t happened but Aziraphale insisted on bringing it up. “I’m worried dear, they say that he is dangerous.” Crowley finally lost his patience. 

“Of course, he is dangerous Aziraphale, please. Don’t believe anyone who tells you differently. He is the best duelist in school, and yes, also he had read about Dark Arts, but so did I. Lucifer is intelligent, determined, ambitious, and cunning and I could say a lot more: he is a true Slytherin. Nobody is stupid enough to mess with him. Of course, he is dangerous Aziraphale, but dangerous and Slytherin, as well as _Lucifer_ , are not synonyms of evil. We already had this conversation two times; don’t make me have it a third time.”

Crowley had enough of Aziraphale trash talking Lucifer; he always thought that he would need to stop Lucifer from putting down Aziraphale, but to this day Lucifer hadn't said a single bad thing about Aziraphale to him. Instead, it was Aziraphale who was searching for rumours about Lucifer and trying to convince Crowley that he could hurt him.

Aziraphale bit his tongue. “You said you want to compensate me.” Aziraphale changed the topic abruptly, trying to draw the focus away from the conversation about Lucifer. 

“Yes angel, whatever you want.” Crowley sighed; he had expected a lot more from Aziraphale, even for him just to have said, _“Sorry, I won’t bring it up again.”_ He thought that Aziraphale was now asking for something for his own gain, like Lucifer might do.

Aziraphale might not show it often, and Crowley knew it was because Aziraphale didn’t like to be that way, but deep-down Crowley knew Aziraphale could be a real bastard sometimes and compete toe to toe with Lucifer if he wanted. 

“You said the star you made for me had my eye colour. I want another,” Aziraphale said holding onto the locket around his neck, “with yours.” Crowley raised his brows; he thought that Aziraphale would ask for something different, but he wanted to do it anyway. He liked to make stars for Aziraphale.

“You sure you don’t want something better?”

Determined, Aziraphale said, “I want the star.”

Divination classes were the worst, especially during the last month of the year. The students who hated it and took it only because they thought it would be easier than runes outnumbered the ones who liked it and put real effort at it.

Aziraphale Fell was one of Professor Trelawney's best students. Still, he was not necessarily the most liked, because although he was particularly good in divination, he usually argued a lot with her. Trelawney’s classes were always a disaster. She kept jumping from one idea to another without a clear connection. Later on, Aziraphale discovered Agnes Nutter, another Divination professor who was even less down to earth than Trelawney, but her prophecies, even if they sounded odd at first, were always correct. Aziraphale also liked Agnes Nutter more since she dressed, and acted, much less eccentric and bizarre than Trelawney.

But right now, that isn't important, because Aziraphale is not in Trelawney's class. Trelawney is dealing with one of her worst classes, teaching fifth year Slytherins and Ravenclaws.

“Esotericism, my children, is ineffable. One just can't know what is going to happen. You must keep your eyes open for the signs from the universe. See a number repeat itself? It’s a sign. Keep looking for signs, pay attention to them.  _ Open your eyes _ .” Trelawney touched Abaddon’s forehead with her cold finger, signaling to his third eye, waking him up from his not subtle nap. She walked between tables looking at her students trying to read teacups. Every table had two students, two cups of tea, a crystal ball and a bright long tablecloth. “Tea leaves reading, my children, is a very cryptical art."

"The only cryptical thing here would be if she has a ferret in her turban or it is just her hair." Lucifer murmured. Behind him Ligur and Hastur laughed and Michael gave Sandalphon, with whom she was sitting, a tired look. There wasn't a single thing good about sharing classes with Slytherin.

“What were you saying, Mr. Morningstar?"

"That it’s very, very cryptic, indeed. I keep trying to read these leaves, but I can't." He said and Hastur and Ligur laughed again.

“Let me see. This is Mr. Crowley's teacup, isn't it?”

“Yes miss.” Crowley said, managing to act serene and not laugh after Lucifer's save.

Trelawney scrutinized it, moving it to the right, moving it to the left. “Have you been playing with this cup, Morningstar? Crowley?”

“No, Professor,” they said, Trelawney hummed, still looking at the cup and frowning. “I'm sorry my dear, it looks cloudy. As if the leaves are trying to make a shape but can't make one that is readable. Take a look, Crowley, you surely know yourself better than Morningstar or me. Do you see a shape?"

Crowley took the cup and looked at it, trying to search for a shape without much success. The leaves were scattered around in the cup. He could clearly see why Lucifer, ironically, could see nothing. He also considered Trelawney's comment that it looked cloudy. “It reminds me of the night sky…”

“Oh, that's it!" Trelawney exclaimed, taking the cup from his hands. “Very interesting. I can see the stars and the moon now, even behind all the clouds.” She said, excited, “How funny, the ‘Morning Star’ is in your cup.” She said looking at Lucifer, “Mr. Morningstar, your whole name comes from this star. From the Latin words  _ lux  _ and  _ ferre, _ the Lightbearer. This could mean that, after a storm, or a cloudy time, light will come. The Lightbearer, or the Morning Star,” she laughed at the coincidences of fate, “represents luck, good news. The one destined to glorious things.”

“Destined to glorious things, sounds like me.” Lucifer said, Crowley snorted.

“I thought we were reading my cup, Lightbearer.”

“You two are too close, very connected, one could think you share the same body.” Asmodeus made a joke that was understood by the whole class, except for Trelawney, who innocently thought that kids of that age weren't filled with hormones.

“Oh, very good, Mr. Libidine, five points to Slytherin. Great analysis, your third eye is awakening.”

Returning to Crowley and Lucifer she said, “Having the Morning Star in your cup, and being as close as you two are,” more laughs from the class, “your leaves will be intertwined, as will be your destinies. Come on Crowley, read Morningstar's.” 

Crowley took a long look at the cup. Lucifer had left tea in it, and the leaves danced with it as it moved. “Fire.” Crowley said. “I see fire. A pool of blackness, and fire.”

“Give me that, dear boy,” Trelawney said, her voice more serious. With a gasp she nearly dropped the cup at the sight of its contents. 

Lucifer raised his brows at his group of friends behind him. Ligur, Hastur and Asmodeus shrugged. Abaddon made a gesture to describe someone who is nuts. 

“I think my dears, that we should finish class now; it’s nearly the end. I will take these,” she said, placing Lucifer’s and Crowley’s cups on her table. “For the next class I want a parchment of what you think your cups say. You were excellent, Mr. Morningstar, Mr. Crowley. But Raphael, would you stay with me for a moment? Everybody else, dismissed." 

Lucifer left the classroom, followed by the rest of the Slytherin students, and walked down the staircase. Michael took a little more time packing her things; she preferred to avoid listening to Lucifer more than strictly necessary. She still heard him as he kept talking about his own name: “destined to glorious things,” while leaving. Amazing, how one could talk and talk about a professor being crazy, but the very moment she praised him, he used it in his own favor.

“Raphael, what do you think, your leaves say?” Trelawney asked sympathetically, holding the cup. Crowley didn’t like her pitying tone at all. “Are the stars calling you, or the clouds?”

“I don't know, professor, I suppose the stars. I like astronomy, maybe –"

The sound of porcelain crashing against the floor made Michael jump, startling her, as well as Crowley. Trelawney grabbed him by both arms after dropping the cup, her neck contorted at a terrifying angle, her skin so pale that it looked green and her eyes rolled up until her irises disappeared.

“ _ Fire and stars may both be light, but one burns and the other guides, _ ” Trelawney said, her voice husky. “ _ Beware, for two paths are open. And in fog, haze and mist, lights can be mistaken. Beware, for one bearer will bring light, the other would bring damnation for them all." _ Trelawney released him and cracked her neck to the right, to the left, and coughed.

“Well my dear,” she said, coughing again, her throat irritated feeling sore,  _ I need water _ , she thought, “If you believe the stars are the thing you should concentrate on, then think about it.” She said, coughing again, her voice returning to normal, unaware of what she just did and why her student was shaking.

Crowley stood there, freaked out, not knowing what to do. Michael, wide eyed too, left before he saw her.

“Okay professor. Thanks,” he said, scurrying away with trembling hands.

Michael had left the Divination class in a similar state and was hyperventilating. Professor Trelawney had always acted weird, but never terrifying. If that was a real vision, and what real esotericism and divination looked like, she was SURE she preferred charms and runes. She didn’t want to give it too much thought, it wasn’t a prediction about her damnation after all. But that didn’t calm her. 

“Michael, are you all right?” Aziraphale said, suddenly too close. He saw her gasping and shaking and ran to her. Michael grabbed his hand, she felt nauseated after seeing Trelawney like that and couldn’t keep still. Definitively, Divination wasn’t for her. Trelawney wasn’t even near her and she still felt struck by the waves of her magic.

“This Aziraphale, is my last warning: do something _ now _ .” She said, composing herself, her voice coming out rough and angry. “And you should go to the Divination classroom. I think Crowley feels worse than me.”

Aziraphale ran faster than he ever did before.

Crowley refused to tell him anything about what happened, he dismissed it, saying that Trelawney was just acting weirder than usual, that there was nothing to worry about. 

“Why are you shaking then?” Aziraphale asked distrustfully, grabbing him by the arm and helping Crowley walk down the stairs. 

“I think it’s just the tea, stomach flu probably, something like that.” Aziraphale didn’t believe a single word.

It took Crowley a week to finish making Aziraphale’s new star, just in time for the end of the year. 

Summer nights at the Astronomy Tower were Crowley’s favourite times to be there. He liked how clear the sky looked, how serene the nights felt, how it made him feel at peace. It had taken Crowley fewer attempts to make this star, and he was sure that he had finally found the right formula for the colour Aziraphale wanted.

“Look at this, angel,” he said with a grin. With a complicated wave of his wand that was not at all necessary, Crowley murmured  _ “Asteri.” _

Aziraphale inhaled deeply, the Astronomy Tower smelled of cold and ice, fire and ozone. He watched in absolute awe; this was the first time he saw the birth of a star. It distorted the space around it where it ignited with a spark in the darkness. A floating light, amber as honey, furious as fire, changed the atmosphere in the Astronomy Tower from midnight to sunset. The Hufflepuff used all his willpower to not burst into tears and hug him. He controlled himself and took the star as if it were the most fragile thing in the world.

“I was scared for a moment; sometimes those explode and it’s a mess.” Crowley said with a smile. He thought that Aziraphale would look at him with the same delight as when he gave him his first star, but that didn’t happen. Aziraphale thanked him, but he didn’t smile, and if his eyes were glowing it wasn't with delight or hapiness.

“Thank you, Crowley,” Aziraphale said. Crowley’s heart sank, Aziraphale sounded heartbroken and he couldn’t figure out why.

During the summer break Aziraphale looked at the amber star every night. It shone as the sun behind the clouds during midday, glowing with a honey-colored light. Aziraphale looked at the star while the blue one orbited around it. And, as Crowley had suggested to him, he used them as a lamp to study, but also as a guide star. If Aziraphale couldn’t make Crowley listen to him, he would need to be prepared when the time came, and Lucifer got out of control. 

Under the light of both stars in his house in London, Aziraphale regarded the paper intensely. It wasn’t time for cowardice, ignoring a problem won’t make it go away. He wrote in clear, styled calligraphy: 

_ “I'm afraid that I was very wrong. Even after you warned me, I realized it shamefully late. I can’t ignore this anymore. Could you lend me your help? Please.” _

Sealing it carefully, Aziraphale watched his white owl fly away with his last hope. Aziraphale’s Fifth year was going to be a very intense one.


	8. Mist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sixth year begins!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome, my fellow benevolent Lovecraftian abominations, friends and enemies, good pilgrims and foul fiends to *drumroll* Crowley’s and Lucifer’s sixth year, also known as my favourite chapter. There are no trigger warnings here, except for language and this: I used the Amortentia trope, sorry not sorry, it was inevitable, I’m a sucker for the Amortentia trope. Enjoy.

“Do you want to break some rules?” Lucifer had whispered to Crowley in Severus Snape’s Potions class.

“Whatever it is, count me in, Lucifer.”

“Tonight, bring the map. I have the cloak.”

“I’ll be at your dorm room after dinner.”

“It’s a date then.”

“Mr. Morningstar, Mr. Crowley.” Professor Snape said and they nearly jumped out of their skins. “Why don’t you come here and help me with the class if you are so talkative?” Under the eyes of twenty students from Slytherin and Ravenclaw they walked to the front of the classroom where a boiling cauldron was waiting for them.

“Smell it and tell me what potion I’m making,” Professor Snape said. For Crowley, ever since he had eaten the mandrake leaf, trying to smell something was pointless. It’s not that he couldn’t, but it was difficult, and normally he needed to stick out his tongue ,  like a snake, to smell better. The thing is, he couldn’t do it while twenty students and a professor were watching him. In fact, if Crowley had made some effort or had stuck out his tongue, he could have distinguished the smell of fresh baked bread, old leather books and a hint of cocoa. He couldn’t, so he did the next best thing he could think about: gave Lucifer a look that screamed  _ “I can’t smell shit, help me,” _ and waited for instructions.

“I’m sorry professor, I can’t smell anything.” Lucifer said, who answered Crowley’s look with one that said something like  _ “I can’t smell shit either _ .” Lucifer could, in fact, smell it very clearly. But we are not getting into that now.

“Oh, and what about you Mr. Crowley?” Severus Snape suddenly realized that maybe, bringing the two of them at the same time, hadn’t been his brightest idea. He was already regretting it.

“I’m sorry professor, I can’t smell anything either. Is that okay? Is it maybe an odourless potion?” The teacher shook his head, gesturing Crowley to sit. Now Lucifer was alone, and he looked scared as hell when Crowley was again in his seat.

“I should have known that it was a bad idea bringing the two of you up here at the same time.” Snape glared at the class and the students stopped giggling. “Mr. Morningstar, can you smell something _now_?” Snape wanted, at least, for Lucifer to name the potion so he could give some points to Slytherin. Lucifer just wanted to disappear.

“Oh,” He said, bowing his head so nobody could see his face. “It's an Amortentia potion, professor.” Ligur and Hastur looked at each other, thinking _ “I can’t wait for Dagon and Beel to hear this.” _

Crowley slid down in his seat trying to hide under the desk. The hardest thing was to convince himself that shifting into a snake wasn’t going to help. Snape gave Slytherin five points. Lucifer’s hands were doing a poor job hiding the redness of his face. They were really screwed. Severus Snape, for the first time in his life, had failed to calm his class, during the next fifteen minutes he had two students dying inside and twenty other students going feral.

“You owe me five galleons,’ said a Ravenclaw to another behind Crowley, and so did all the rest of students in the class to the others. By dinner time the rumour, “Crowley and Lucifer are dating.” had spread like wildfire. A great start for their sixth year.

  
  


“So… you and Lucifer.” Aziraphale said playing with his drink as if  _ that  _ didn’t bother him at all. Crowley had asked him to eat dinner with him in the Astronomy Tower because he wanted to be as far away from the Great Hall as possible, for the rest of his days.

“On’y Lu’ife’!” Crowley said biting his food as it had offended him on purpose. “When I say I can’t smell shit I mean it! I need my tongue to do it properly.”

“If you say so dear.”

“Come on Aziraphale, you can track the rumours of Lucifer and me dating back to second year even. This is not new, stop your drama. This is MY dramatic moment. It’s embarrassing.” Crowley was now fighting with a chicken leg like as if it was some war criminal and Crowley had to torture it.

“Did you know?”

“Of course? I mean, yes. Lucifer and I always knew; we put the b– in Bromance on purpose. It has always been funny messing with people. It just backfired very badly.”

“Evil has planted the seeds of its own destruction one more time.” Aziraphale joked but returned to his serious tone from before. “No, Crowley, not that. Did you know that Lucifer loves you?” The food on Aziraphale’s plate was untouched as he played with his food.

“I don’t think Lucifer loves me.” Crowley sighed then changed to a more energetic tone. “Maybe a platonic crush, but no more than that. Or maybe peacocks have as bad a sense of smell as snakes. Who knows, certainly I don’t.” Aziraphale was having none of it. There was something that made him feel that Crowley was lying.

“Dear, if you and Lucifer start dating, will you tell me? Or do I have to wait until he kisses you in front of the whole school and some student from Gryffindor tells me because he wants me to duel with Lucifer for your honour?” 

It was this exact way that Aziraphale had heard of the rumour. Except about the kissing part but it was only because that hadn’t happened yet. Crowley was ready to say  _ I’m not dating Lucifer _ and keep denying as long as he needed. But looking at Aziraphale’s sad eyes he felt like trash. 

“I knew it,” Crowley said defeatedly. “I still don’t think Lucifer loves me. Maybe just a crush. Lucifer was also my first kiss. Nothing romantic; we were drunk off our asses and playing truth or dare in fourth year. Things happened, but we laughed it off. I never thought too much about Lucifer’s teasing either. Until last year…” Crowley paused. If Aziraphale was breaking inside he wasn’t showing it in his face. Aziraphale had more the look of a worried friend who genuinely wants what is best for you, but he also doesn’t approve of what  _ you _ think is best for you. “Last year, just the week before we finished the year, he asked me if we could officially date. I asked him to keep it as a secret.”

“Well, it didn’t last long.” Aziraphale said, returning his gaze to his food.

“I’m sorry, I know you hate him angel.”

“No, no, my dear, don’t mix things up. I don’t hate him, and you should date whoever you want. If you love him dear…” Aziraphale paused, waiting for Crowley to respond, to say he loved Lucifer or that he didn't, that it was only a crush that wouldn’t last. But Crowley didn’t say anything, still feeling like the worst friend in the world, unsure if he should say something. Aziraphale continued, “If you love him Crowley, then date him. You don’t need my approval. I just thought that when the time came, you would have told me first, happily, not like this and needing a rumour running through the school to do it.”

“Angel…”

“Shhh dear, your boyfriend is going to get jealous if he hears you calling me that. Now eat, Crowley. But if he tries to break your heart, I’m going to lick his ass.”

“KICK, AZIRAPHALE, KICK HIS ASS.”  Crowley later was gleefully writing down ‘ass’ in his notebook of  _ bad words Aziraphale had said _ even if it was about Lucifer. “You’re a cinnamon roll angel. I feel like Lucifer is being threatened by a marshmallow.”

Aziraphale was happy that Crowley called him angel that night, and continued to do so even after he was officially dating Lucifer.  _ Take that, fopdoodle scunner. _

  
  


At 11 pm, Crowley was at the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room, waiting for Lucifer, with the map in hand. Crowley decided to wait outside in snake form; he didn’t need to start a rumour about how, after the morning’s events in Potions class, he had slithered into Lucifer’s room at night. Lucifer had the same idea, and by 11:01 he was outside of the Common Room too. He wrapped the black snake around his arm and put the Invisibility Cloak around them.

  
  


“The girl’s bathroom Lucifer, really?” Crowley said, unwrapping from Lucifer's arm and changing to his human form.

“After you mentioned the Room of Requirement I read  _ ‘History of Hogwarts’ _ too. I figured if the room that comes and goes was real, this legend should be real too.” Crowley looked at him as he was speaking in a foreign language. “The legend of the Chamber of Secrets, Raphael. All my investigation took me here.” He said gesturing with his arms to the place.

“To the girl’s bathroom?” Lucifer nodded impatiently. “So, THE Chamber of Secrets legend, the heritage of Slytherin, the monster of Salazar Slytherin is in the girl’s bathroom?” he said, incredulous.

“Why could not be in the bathroom?” 

“And where exactly is the Chamber, Lucifer?”

“I don’t exactly know.” Crowley looked at him with raised eyebrows, judging his poor convincing skills. “Come on Raphael; use that beautiful head of yours. I need you because I don’t speak Parseltongue.”

“And you think if I speak it, the entry of the Chamber would show itself.”

Lucifer smiled at him, making finger guns. Crowley was suddenly less sure about all of that. This could be very dangerous, and someone could get hurt. Lucifer didn’t miss it.

“When we fought in fourth year, you called me an asshole. Is there really a word in Parseltongue for that?” Lucifer said trying to cheer him up, that fight now was an old memory, used as a joke from time to time, and one that Crowley kept bringing up to mess with Lucifer whenever he was acting like a prat. 

“No, there isn’t. I made it up on the spot. You wouldn’t know if I said it and that made it even funnier.”

“You’re an absolute asshole, Raphael.” Lucifer said emphatically, hugging him by the waist and burying his head on the curvature of Crowley’s neck. “Come one, say something for me, something real this time. Just once, and then we leave.”

Crowley reluctantly hissed at nothing in particular, just a long sentence with an unimportant meaning. Nothing happened, except that Lucifer kissed him.

“You look so sexy speaking Parseltongue; you should do it more frequently.”

“I told Aziraphale about us, so you can kiss me more frequently, if you want.” Lucifer kissed him again, hungry and eager, but this time Crowley didn’t respond. Lucifer looked at him, shaken and frightened.

“Lucifer, something just spoke to me.”

  
  


The marble was cold, colder than the cruelest winter. In the marble was a sink, carved in the sink was a snake, under it there was a chamber waiting to be opened.

“You can do it. I’m here with you,” Lucifer said grabbing Crowley’s hand and squeezing it softly. In his other hand he had his wand ready to attack whatever dared to slither from it. 

_ “ _ _ Reveal your secrets,” _ Crowley hissed, and then the Chamber opened.

Lucifer walked to the entrance when the marble stood open, lifting his wand and illuminating it. Crowley heard  _ the _ voice again and shivered. 

_ “If you want him alive, take him away from the entrance.”  _

“Enough, Lucifer, we are leaving.” Crowley said, hissing again, dragging Lucifer away, ordering him both in Parsel and English. When Lucifer looked at him, Crowley was pale, disheveled and shaking. When he dragged Lucifer away, Crowley’s glasses fell from his face. Without them his amber eyes were glassy, his slitted pupils sharp from stress. Lucifer obeyed, and the Chamber door closed. The voice didn’t say anything more.

“I will take you to your room Raphael, I’m sorry.”

“No Lucifer, you’re sleeping with me. We’re going to the Room of Requirement. You will not be out of my sight tonight.”

In Crowley’s mind it was the best idea he could come up with. If Lucifer were with him, he couldn’t get in trouble and have a horrible idea like coming back to the girl’s bathroom. But in fact it turned out to be the worst decision he made. 

If he were alone, Lucifer could go back to the girl’s bathroom, but what could he do? Hiss on and on until he managed to make enough grammatical errors that the Chamber got tired and opened itself from sheer pity? No, Lucifer couldn’t open the Chamber alone, and Crowley had been brutally clear when they got to the room: he was never going to speak Parseltongue again in front of Lucifer. He knew that Crowley meant it, but Lucifer also knew that he didn’t care. 

Lucifer snapped his fingers against Crowley’s ear. He was sleeping so peacefully.

“I’m sorry Raphael, I truly am,” he said, leaving a chaste kiss on the red hair. Pointing at him with his wand Lucifer whispered, “ _ Imperio. _ ”

In more wholesome news, the next morning no one was dead, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Lucifer made sure that everybody knew he and Raphael were officially dating. Of course, it is Lucifer Morningstar we are talking about, so it was the most unnecessarily chaotic and pompous performance he could devise. He even stole some of Pomona’s flowers to make his public confession even more dramatic, and sickly sweet, rejoicing in annoying the people around them.

It only cost him two hours in detention, some shouting from McGonagall, more from Snape, a lot from Pomona Sprout––but she was speaking so fast that the only thing Lucifer understood in between shouts was “MY FLOWERS!”, and three hundred points from Slytherin. Also, when in detention, the Headmaster came to both scold him and congratulate him about finally publicly acknowledging his relationship with Raphael. She gave ten points to Slytherin because even though it had been overly-dramatic, it was also adorable. 

  
  


There had been, since that day, several uneventful months. Well not altogether uneventful, there had been a few remarkable events. Like Lucifer winning —again — the Dueling Tournament, with Crowley wearing his Slytherin scarf and cheering for him at every duel. When Lucifer won, he, Crowley and the rest of the Hell Gang, now bigger, as it had four new Slytherin students, went to The Three Brooms to celebrate. It was a cold, cold day. Lucifer really wanted a scarf, but he refused to give up the sight of Crowley wearing Slytherin colours. So, Crowley did what he had to do, and summoned his Ravenclaw scarf to place around Lucifer’s neck. 

  
  


Sixth year kept them terribly busy. Between studying and taking exams, finding time to be boyfriends and spending time in the Room of Requirement, Lucifer was also getting attention from more Slytherin students, as well as the new members of the Hell Gang, who were interested in Dark Arts.  Lucifer was, just maybe, creating a secret study group with them too.  _ Obviously,  _ not relevant to the plot right now.

But it had been months since Lucifer asked Crowley for favours, while he granted many to Crowley when asked. So, when Lucifer finally asked him for one, Crowley couldn’t refuse, even when he should have. 

When Lucifer said, _ “I need a favour,” _ Crowley thought that there wasn’t anything he could ask for that was worse than opening the Chamber of Secrets. But in the Room of Requirement, with Beelzebub and Mammon making potions, and Dagon explaining runes to Belphegor, Crowley discovered that Lucifer  _ always _ surpassed all expectations. 

“Have you ever heard about Horcruxes?” 

3 am was the best time for them to sneak into the library. The corridors were always empty and on Mondays Dagon was the Prefect who patrolled the halls. The problem was that when the Slytherin Prefect was patrolling the halls, the Gryffindor Prefect, Gabriel, was patrolling too. He stepped on a black snake that screamed in pain as it shape-shifted into a Ravenclaw student. Gabriel was frozen by a wave of Lucifer’s wand, while Dagon shouted at him and Crowley.

“Why are you two stupid shits not using the map? I’m not going to be here next year to cover for you.”

“Shut up Dagon.” Lucifer cut her off in a grim tone, and Dagon recoiled. “We got you your books; stop complaining,” Lucifer said firmly, but calmly. Dagon tried to avoid looking at him in the eyes, averting his stern glare as she shifted to look at Crowley.

“Did he see you?” she asked, and Crowley nodded. “Don’t worry, get to the Room. I got this.”

As they left, they heard Dagon whisper  _ “obliviate”  _ to Gabriel. When he woke up, he didn’t remember seeing anything out of the ordinary. Lucifer made sure to make her teach him that spell.

The book that Lucifer had borrowed from the library was full of horrors, but the Horcrux was the worst one. Lucifer had only seen Crowley this pale the first time he opened the Chamber of Secrets. They were alone in Lucifer’s room but they weren’t chatting and lying with their limbs entwined like usual. They were now reading the pages about Horcruxes in absolute silence. 

“Just because I’m reading it doesn’t mean I’m going to do it,” Lucifer said to calm Crowley, but Crowley didn’t believe it. With shaking hands he took the book. He was going to take it back to the library and make sure that Lucifer couldn’t find it, even if he had to ask Aziraphale for help. 

“I can return it myself, Raphael, give it back.” Lucifer said. Normally, with other people, Lucifer gave orders that demanded obedience, but he was less strict with Crowley.

“No.” Crowley said, and the Ravenclaw was able to leave the room with the book, leaving Lucifer alone trying to contain his alarmingly grim expression. If a window was broken we couldn’t say if it was by Lucifer’s magic or by Lucifer’s fist.

Crowley didn’t give the book back to Lucifer, but he didn’t take it to the library either. He decided to keep it hidden under his bed. Better for him, and he thought better for Lucifer. Even if he searched the entire library, he wouldn’t find it, and Aziraphale didn’t need to know either; he was already worried enough. 

After that, little by little, the Room of Requirement began to fill with Lucifer’s new friends. Crowley still didn’t believe Aziraphale, but he stopped going to the Room of Requirement more than necessary.

Crowley wasn’t a fan of Lucifer’s new friends. Asmodeus was his least favourite; there was something in the way he looked at Lucifer, and sometimes at him, that made Crowley feel uneasy. On top of that, Lucifer was spending less time with him every day. 

Crowley found it difficult to be alone with Lucifer after the first half of the year. And Aziraphale? Finding time to spend with Aziraphale was even more difficult than with Lucifer. Aziraphale seemed to have even less free time and refuse to give him a truthful explanation.

  
  


By the end of the year Lucifer started to lose his natural tan, had big black bags under his eyes, and lost a lot of weight. But the worse he looked, the larger his circle of friends became. Lucifer’s face had more and more scars, Michael wasn’t in the Dueling Club anymore, but he found that his new friends were more than eager to duel against him than she ever was. He wore the scars his friends gave him with pride. They were always pointing to the ones they gave him, and the ones that he gave them, as if these scars were badges of honour. 

By the end of the year, it had been four weeks since Crowley had any time alone with Lucifer for more than a few minutes and it was driving him mad.

  
  


Crowley and Aziraphale were sitting in the Great Hall at the Hufflepuff table. It was 5 pm, and there were a lot fewer students than at dinner time. Between them there were three different potion bottles that Crowley had been given in the infirmary. He had always had a terrible sleep schedule, but this year it was far worse; he was having a lot of nightmares and his head hurt like hell nearly every day.

“Can we talk, Raphael?” Lucifer had been standing at his side in silence waiting for Crowley to look at him until the Slytherin lost his patience and spoke. Only four words weren’t enough for Crowley to look at him. “Please?” But he could work with five.

“We can talk here.” Crowley gestured for him to sit at his side and Aziraphale suddenly found that the walls of the Great Hall were the most interesting thing to look at. 

It was a test. When Crowley was mad at Lucifer, he always tested him, attempting to push beyond his limits. Lucifer didn’t care; he had always excelled at them.

So, one more incredible thing happened that year, that day, at that moment, Lucifer Morningstar sat at the Hufflepuff table, under the incredulous gaze of about a dozen various students.

“I don’t know why I’m apologizing, Raphael.” It was maybe the worst way to begin an apology. “But I will apologize if you talk to me about what is bothering you. I know that we have not been alone together, and I'm probably the worst boyfriend, but I want to still be with you. And be a better one.” Crowley looked more relaxed and Aziraphale wasn’t moving at all. Lucifer continued, grabbing the Ravenclaw’s hand carefully and slowly, giving Crowley time to take it away. As that didn’t happen, Lucifer caressed it like he was caressing the marble of a shrine.

“You know what my Amortentia smells like?” That was a very low blow but an effective one nonetheless. “It smelled like the Slytherin Common Room at 3 am when I wake up and get to see your face while reading, with your glasses slipping enough for me to look at your golden eyes. It smelled like ozone, the first spark that ignites the birth of a star. And it smelled like firewhiskey, as your lips did during those clandestine moments in fourth and fifth year when I managed to steal some of your attention.” Crowley smiled, embarrassed. Lucifer had passed the test perfectly. But perfect for Lucifer wasn’t enough, he had more to say. “I love you, my Starmaker.” 

Lucifer’s gaze at him was penetrating and intense; his hand on Crowley’s was gentle. Lucifer had said those words a lot of times in different ways: sarcastically, joking, teasing, but he had never been so brutally honest, with this softness in his voice. 

“I love you too, Lucifer.” There had been always something strangely obscene on how Lucifer touched him, even if they were chaste, not sexual touches. Lucifer was carefully inspecting his hand, holding it in front of his face. It was a strange mix of security and anxiety. It felt oddly easy to let Lucifer grab him and move his body as he pleased. Lucifer smiled and kissed the back of Crowley’s hand, a sweet chaste little kiss.

“I’m leaving; I don’t want to bother you more than I already do Raphael. But can we eat together tonight?” Lucifer pleaded sweetly. Crowley couldn’t remember the last time he saw Lucifer so wholehearted. 

“Of course, Lucifer, I will be at the Slytherin table. I know you need your boyfriend there so you can show me off.” He tried to joke, but there was something in Lucifer’s smile that made him feel strange, as if joking were something indecent. 

“It’s not about that, Raphael, I miss you. What is your last class today? We can dine alone, out of the Great Hall. Only if you want, obviously.” Crowley nodded; he hadn’t seen Lucifer smile so brightly in many weeks. Crowley realized he felt indecent because he had all his self defense mechanisms up, while Lucifer was emotionally naked in front of him, sincere and selfless. Crowley’s throat was dry, he swallowed, suddenly feeling like shit.

Aziraphale didn’t look at them at all during the conversation and outwardly he seemed calm and composed. But his breath was agitated and his face was flushed. Lucifer wanted to torment him, remind him why he couldn’t convince Crowley about all these  _ horrible _ rumours about him. “May I kiss you, my Starmaker?”

“You may.” Crowley expected it. Lucifer always wanted to show everyone that they were dating. He expected the most embarrassing, shameless, hungry, passionate kiss on the mouth, long and proprietary. But he received an apologetic, innocent and brief kiss on the forehead. Aziraphale’s mask of calm was shattered in pieces. 

“See you later then.” 

Crowley felt breathless and lightheaded for the rest of the day. 

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Professor of Defense Against Dark Arts, was sitting at his desk in his cozy office behind the classroom, when someone knocked on the door. Dumbledore looked at the clock on the wall that marked exactly two minutes after 7 pm, just after his consultation time had ended. 

"Come in!” He said and Lucifer Morningstar entered the room with the same innocent expression on his face as a toddler who was caught holding a knife when they knew very well they shouldn't be.

"Yes, Mr. Morningstar. How can I help you?"

"Hello Professor. May I take a seat?" Dumbledore nodded while taking a long look at the student, scrutinizing him. Lucifer smiled and murmured a too sweet and angelically melodious “ _ thank you _ .” to be sincere.

"You see professor, I have some questions, a couple of suggestions if you may, for your classes." Dumbledore lifted his brows at the word  _ “suggestions.” _ Setting his papers aside, he interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on them, letting the student know he had his undivided attention. 

"I want to pursue a career as a teacher when I finish school. I'm fascinated with Defense Against the Dark Arts, and you Sir, are a phenomenal teacher. I would like to request private classes, some kind of tutorship if you may. Learning from you would be more than an honour.” 

Working with children for so many years taught Dumbledore that even if some students are a little bit problematic to deal with, that does not mean they are bad students. But some are like Lucifer, full of themselves, born in a bed made of gold and with clear patterns of manipulation that set off all the alarms in his head when he appeared in his office acting like a model student. 

“So,” Dumbledore started, genuinely touched by his student’s interest, but still suspicious. “I suppose that I know where you are going with the  _ suggestions _ part. Is there something in my classes that you would like to change?"

“More than  _ to change _ professor, is what I think, as a student of course  — and I think a lot of others would agree  — that we could benefit to learn about. I've been reading some of the study plans from other schools, and I would like to ask why we don't learn Latin or Greek. You surely must know that spells can be easily translated and  — "

“Yes, we fear that teaching students Latin or Greek could lead to some dangerous results. I may recall a funny rhyme from when I was younger, one about turning water into rum with magic It always ended in my cup set on fire, and I saw a lot of cups on fire in my career as a teacher as well.” He said with a warm smile. 

“It could be taught to older students — ”

“You mean older, like you?” Dumbledore said, stopping him mid-sentence. Lucifer made a twisted, too wide grin, and closed his eyes for a moment, uncomfortable with how the professor was dismissing his ideas.

“Maybe seventh year students, professor, students that are — ”

“Already allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts? I don't think so. There are regulations. To design your own spell you need to ask permission from the Ministry, explain what kind of spell and why you want to create it, for what purpose. All those things are important to ensure the safety of our people. The laws exist for a reason, Lucifer,” Dumbledore looked at Lucifer's expressions closely. His mask of innocence started to shatter. “Do you understand what I'm saying, Mr. Morningstar?” Dumbledore asked, lowering his glasses with a warning glare. 

“Yes professor,” Lucifer said, losing his smile.

“Good. Do you have any more suggestions?”

Lucifer looked to his left for a second, where there was an old phoenix sleeping peacefully. "I also have been reading about Drumstang’s DADA study plans and  — ”

“Ah yes, Durmstrang. For three years they were visited by the Ministry to restore control and regularize the… how to say it, the  _ situation _ . The professor who had the idea to teach students about the Unforgivable Curses was put in Azkaban two years ago after the investigation concluded that he was... well, you surely have read about it in the Daily Prophet. News like that spread like wildfire.” Dumbledore said, again, with a smile, less warm and more warning.

“ _ Yes, professor, _ ” Lucifer answered after a long breath. With every “ _ Yes professor” _ Lucifer looked less at ease, less enthusiastic, and more and more like a predator that underestimated his prey and was now surrounded without a way to attack. “But would it be that bad to know how to defend ourselves from the Unforgivable Curses? I mean, I'm not saying to teach us the curses. But how can we defend ourselves if we don't — "

“Is not necessary to know how to do the Unforgivable Curses to defend ourselves.” Dumbledore stopped his student mid-sentence again. Lucifer frowned and pursed his lips. “Aren't you Morningstar, the unbeaten champion of the Dueling Club? I'm sure you wouldn't need to know how to make the Curses to defend yourself from them. If you need to, I’m sure you could easily disarm your enemy before they could open their mouth.” Dumbledore spoke with a smile that did not reach his eyes. Lucifer inhaled deeply and bit his lip.

“ _ Yes, professor _ , but the Ava — ”

“Don't. Don't say it out loud. There is no need. Better if we don't name those things. Do you know the last time someone was murdered with the killer-curse?” Lucifer made no sound, no gestures. Dumbledore continued, unperturbed. “Thirty years. If you're this eager to know about the Unforgivable Curses, maybe you could reconsider your career choices and become an Auror.”

“Is it that you don't want to teach us how to defend ourselves, or…” Lucifer shifted in the chair, leaning as he owned it, “is it that yourself alone want to know how to defend from Curses, professor?” he asked, looking at Dumbledore with a twisted grin, a feeling of superiority running through his veins, feeling his wand calling for him.

It takes a lot to make Album Dumbledore feel something like fear, and Lucifer was far from achieving it. Nonetheless, Albus Dumbledore was cautious, and as he reached for his wand within his robes, he said, “I think, young Morningstar, that your questions are out of place. Right now, I inform you that I'm not comfortable taking you as my private student, nor will I take your suggestions into further consideration. And Lucifer, I think you should reconsider your career choices."

“WHY?” Lucifer snapped, standing up from the chair in a fast movement with a rebel lock of hair hanging from his face. Dumbledore didn't even blink. 

Calmy and composed, Dumbledore said, “Do you think that your mother would approve of your questions, or your behavior Mr. Morningstar?” Lucifer stood there, silent, looking at his professor, his mask of innocence completely shattered, incapable of being taken seriously as a real threat, or as a good student. 

The silence in the room was broken by Lucifer, who made a disgusted sound before saying, “She is too busy thinking about Muggles to care.” 

“Should I ask her?” Dumbledore said, raising his brows.

“...There is no need,  _ professor. _ ”

“Then, if there is nothing else Morningstar, I’m going to ask you to leave. My consultation time ended fifteen minutes ago. But feel free to come by during the official hour whenever you want,” Dumbledore said with a false smile. 

“Before I leave, now that you have been clear that you won't take me as your student, may I ask if there is some book you could recommend for me? I still want to pursue a teaching career in DADA. I want to become a professor, a  _ good one _ ," Lucifer said, again with the false mask of innocence. He smiled, with furiously compressed lips. Dumbledore was aware of the sarcasm in his student's voice, Lucifer needed to insult him, his pride demanded it. He tried to imply that he was  _ not _ a "good teacher,” the way that teenagers try to hurt each other. Dumbledore couldn't seem to care less about the childish remark. 

“Sadly, I can think of nothing that I can recommend that would meet your... _standards_. Now, you are dismissed, Morningstar." 

Lucifer stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

  
  


That night, when Crowley was heading to the Slytherin Common Room to dine with Lucifer, he took Crowley to another place instead. The Room of Requirement was resplendent with all the most horrible Valentine’s Day decorations.

“This is awful, Lucifer,” Crowley laughed. Lucifer felt proud; he had put so much effort in making it insanely pink and ridiculous.

They spent the night in the Room of Requirement together. Lucifer had dragged him in, saying, _ “It has been too long since I had you in a room with a bed where we can be alone.”  _ Crowley laughed, completely smitten, and followed him. By the end of the night they were just chatting, curled on a sofa.

“Have you already decided what you want to do after school, Raphael?”

“I asked Professor Sprout to send me a recommendation letter for San Mungo. I don’t know exactly if I want to be a healer, but I think it can be a good career choice. But I was planning to write about Herbology and also about Astronomy. I want to patent my star spells.”

“Would you sign copies of your books for me?”

“Maybe I could even dedicate one of them to you Lucifer, if you keep being this wonderful. What about you?”

“I want to be a teacher.” Crowley’s eyes widened; it was the last option he had ever considered for Lucifer. “I want to open my own school. Like Salazar Slytherin.”

“Did you know that Salazar didn’t open this school alone?” Crowley said, teasing, but he knew where Lucifer was going.

“Beelzebub is going to study for a Master’s Degree in Potions next year. They could even be a good Vice-Director. Asmodeus is the best of our year in Transfiguration. If Dagon wanted, she could be a teacher too; I’ve never seen someone who really liked Runes, her classes will be the strictest ones. And, well, you are good at everything.”

“And you Lucifer, are the best in Dark Arts.”

“Dark Arts is a bad name.”

“And what will you call it?”

Lucifer sat up straighter, hugging Crowley. “Just magic. Why does it have to have another name? I don’t see a difference. I could be the best teacher of Defense Against Dark Arts if you think about it. I mean, how can I defend myself from the Imperius curse, for example? How can we defend ourselves if we don’t know what we are up against? Why hasn't this school taught us how to make our own spells? Or critical thinking? Why don't they teach us Latin or Greek? Dagon had to steal books to learn them. Most of the spells we use can be translated. This school doesn’t want us to fully understand our powers.” Lucifer stopped, regaining his composure.

“The map you designed, the cloak, the stars you have made are incredible, Raphael. You are one of the most talented wizards of our generation, and all the things you did are harmless, but if someone discovered them, they would rip it all apart. You say you want to write a book about making stars, why don’t you do it now? Because you can’t, because this whole system is cursed, corrupted. When I manage to found my school, I will not be teaching unforgivable curses as everyone thinks. But I will never stop a student who only wants to learn. I will not scorn someone for having ambition. Ambition isn’t an evil trait.” 

“You sound as you have practiced this speech before.” Crowley was delighted, watching him. He’d never seen Lucifer speak this passionately.

“Maybe I did.” Lucifer was proud of himself and of the bright admiration that Crowley was showing. “Maybe I have already been teaching.”

“To your little big fan club?” 

Lucifer nodded. 

“You don’t have any idea how jealous I have been,” Crowley said, leaning his head against Lucifer's shoulder, feeling more at ease. It was good to have him back and finally understand why he was distant all this time. Of course, everybody thought that he was doing something terrible. Lucifer had been teaching, how unforgivable and terrible of him. Of course there were such horrible rumours around the castle; everybody thought it was a bad omen to see a group of Slytherin assembled in one place. 

“I promise I will spend more time with you, starting today.”

“Are you looking for a Herbology or an Astronomy teacher?” Crowley asked, smiling, Lucifer kissed him enthusiastically. Both were so relieved.

“Will you do it, Raphael?”

“I’ll think about it.” But his smile told Lucifer that Crowley had already decided, and it was a yes.

They continued kissing on the couch; it became more and more impatient, wet and possessive. Lucifer stopped him softly, breaking the kiss and prepared to push his luck just a little more. Everything was perfect and finally coming together.

“Would you consider teaching something just to me? Private classes?”

“Hmm? What do you want to be taught, Lucifer?” Crowley said, kissing the curve of Lucifer's neck, getting drunk on his perfume. “Anatomy?” He teased playfully.

“Parseltongue.” 

Crowley stopped. “Absolutely not.” 

Lucifer groaned, everything was going so perfectly and he had to screw it up, again. Lucifer was so tired of doing the same thing again and again, over and over.

“And what exactly are you teaching your fan club, Lucifer?” Crowley's voice was darker. Suddenly he wasn’t playful anymore, as though remembering something bad about the Slytherin, like a switch being turned on in his head, making him aware that he was in danger.  “Lucifer, put down your wand.” Crowley’s voice trembled; Lucifer just looked tired.

“I’m sorry, my Starmaker,” Lucifer said with a grieved look on his face. Over and over the same old story,  _ “Obliviate.” _

Lucifer cuddled with Crowley.  _ Just one more attempt, just one more, and I will get it right,  _ he thought, caressing Crowley’s hair. But it was never just  _ one more _ attempt.

  
  
  


“How are you feeling, dear?” Aziraphale caressed Crowley’s hair fondly, his friend hugging him with his face buried in the Hufflepuff’s neck. Crowley sobbed, trembling under his touch and the moonlight. Aziraphale was worried that he could break at any moment. They were sitting on the floor of the Astronomy Tower at 4 am, six different glass bottles nearly emptied of their potions were at their side. 

“I don’t know, Aziraphale. I’m tired of these useless potions. I keep having blackouts and I keep having dead time. I can’t remember when I got to sleep last night. And I keep having nightmares of voices saying such horrible things again and again.”

If anything else important happened in their sixth year, Lucifer made sure Crowley couldn’t remember it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) 
> 
> Fasten your seatbelt. Everything goes downhill from now on, we fall like Crowley.


	9. Dies Irae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer’s dream comes true and he has the opportunity to duel against Aziraphale, no holds barred. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: language, torture, blood, non-described violence, non-con kisses and the most terryfing of them all... Latin!
> 
> There are some spells that are canon spells from Harry Potter, but I have also made some up. I hope the reader, in all their kindness, can forgive me for that. There will be translations at the end of the chapter! :)

Seventh-year Lucifer was something else altogether. If in his sixth year he looked bad, now he looked atrocious, as if he had forgotten how to sleep, eat and smile. Crowley tried to make him laugh, to make him smile, by any means possible. He tried to kiss him, and he did, but it just wasn’t the same. He missed the old Lucifer so much. The only times when Lucifer really looked like Lucifer, the old one that Crowley longed for, were during the Sundays in the Room of Requirement. Every Sunday at 5 pm Lucifer taught Defense Against Dark Arts to Slytherin students. After various failed attempts he was finally able to convince Crowley to come to his classes. He had to sacrifice the idea of Crowley teaching, but it was a start. Every Sunday Lucifer’s face brightened in the room, transformed in his passion for teaching. Crowley didn’t miss any of Lucifer’s classes.

Seventh-year Lucifer Morningstar was still the best dueler in the school. 

Sixth-year Aziraphale Fell was ready to claim that crown.

It was well-known in Hogwarts’ halls that Lucifer wasn’t someone to mess with, that he was the embodiment of the Slytherin House and that he was  _ really _ into Dark Arts. But Aziraphale wasn’t scared of him, and he was the best student in Albus Dumbledore’s Defense Against Dark Arts class. During his fifth year, Aziraphale had been preparing for this very moment. Pomona Sprout had never been happier than when Aziraphale told her that he finally was going to compete in the Dueling Tournament.

When reading the dueling list for the year, Lucifer’s face twisted into a perverse smile.

“I’d like to think that you are going to cheer for your handsome boyfriend, Starmaker.” Lucifer had said at the Slytherin table, sarcastically. Crowley did everything in his power to keep the smile on Lucifer’s face.

“I will be cheering for both my handsome boyfriend and my best friend. ”

The Dueling Tournament was always held before Winter Holiday. Usually, the students didn’t give it too much attention as the winner was always Lucifer, and with Gabriel from Gryffindor graduated, there weren't people in the Dueling Club that could stand a chance against him. But...

This year, two new names were added to the list: Aziraphale Fell from Hufflepuff, and Michael Archangel from Ravenclaw. Lucifer never looked more pleased. He was looking forward to the finals. It was a shame that Fell was in the second group, and not with him in the first rounds. He wanted to show the Hufflepuff how bold he was to enter the Tournament without participating in the Dueling Club. “ _ What a shame,” _ he thought. Lucifer was eager to teach him some manners. At least Lucifer was sure that he was going to be against Michael in the semi-finals. 

The Tournament lasted eight days. 

On the first day group A students competed. Michael had beaten a seventh-year Gryffindor girl in less than nine minutes. In the same group, the second day, Lucifer had beaten a Hufflepuff student from seventh-year in less than five minutes. 

The third day, Aziraphale, from group B, fought a fifth-year Ravenclaw girl. He beat her in twelve minutes. When the duel finished, he ran to her to make sure that she was all right and to apologize if he had been too rough with her.

On the fifth day, in Group A, Michael fought against Asmodeus. He was a sixth-year Slytherin, and one of Lucifer’s best students. Michael beat him in twelve minutes. While Asmodeus flew away as a spell was thrown at his chest, Michael looked at the Slytherin stands, where Lucifer was watching her. When Professor Baxter declared her the winner, Michael winked at the Prince of Slytherin. 

The very same day, Lucifer dueled against Uriel Dominus, a fifth-year student from Gryffindor. She had improved since the last time they dueled, but even as she tried to give him a fair fight, Lucifer won in six minutes. While Baxter declared Lucifer the winner, Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, rushed to Uriel. Lucifer had always looked at the Slytherin stands after winning a match, to see Crowley and his fan club cheering for him, but this time he looked directly at Michael. He didn’t smile or wink. He knew very well that Uriel was Michael’s friend. Having Uriel spend the rest of the day in the infirmary was a warning to Michael.  _ “I can’t wait.” _

The sixth day was group B’s turn again, where Aziraphale was going against Mammon, another of Lucifer’s friends and students. Lucifer was prouder of Mammon than of Asmodeus. He had designed an incredible curse based on lightning that he was hoping Mammon would use against the Hufflepuff.

“Make me proud.” Lucifer had said to Mammon before the match. 

Mammon lasted three minutes against Aziraphale. 

While Professor Baxter declared the Hufflepuff the winner, Aziraphale smiled and waved happily at Crowley in the Slytherin stands with Lucifer. Crowley cheered, nervous and surprised. Michael enjoyed watching the look on the Prince of Slytherin’s face when his ego shattered. Aziraphale left the dueling floor without apologizing or making sure that Mammon was all right. 

  
  


The seventh day was one of the most crowded ones. Even the students that didn’t care about the Dueling Tournament were there. From Group B, Aziraphale, the promising newcomer, was against Jophiel, the previous Hufflepuff’s most successful dueler, from seventh year. And after that was the match that everybody wanted to see: Michael Archangel against Lucifer Morningstar. 

Aziraphale versus Jophiel was the most Hufflepuff match one could imagine. Both students were the embodiment of light, peace and kindness. The two talented duelers fought head-to-head, throwing spells and curses, and compliments and apologies whenever necessary. Finally, after thirteen minutes, Aziraphale was victorious, receiving a handshake from Jophiel as well her congratulations. 

When Lucifer and Michael entered the ring, the cheering stopped. The students were silent as finally  _ the _ duel was happening. 

After sixteen minutes of non-stop spells they were both panting. 

“Come on Morningstar, this is the Tournament, not a class. Is that really all you have?” Michael said, sarcastically, as she protected herself from a fire spell. “If all those rumours are false I’m going to be really disappointed in you,” she said, pouting. 

“Flipendo!” Lucifer shouted.

“Ascendio!” Michael dodged the attack as she flew out of the ring. Lucifer took advantage and conjured a ring of fire around him, forcing the students in the first row to back up.

Michael landed violently just behind him, conjuring a shockwave so powerful that the Slytherin fell and a lot of students lost their scarfs as they flew away.

Michael pointed her wand at him for a moment, without casting any spells, waiting for him to do something. One second turned to two, and then to three, and then to a whole minute. Lucifer laid on his back, looking at her intensely, with his wand firmly grasped. Michael sneered at him. She put her wand away slowly, but didn’t lose track of Lucifer’s, just in case. Lucifer lifted his brows with feigned surprise and a victorious smile. Michael mouthed,  _ bastard _ before she said, “I surrender.” 

“You… are you sure Miss Archangel?” Professor Baxter asked entering the ring, carefully avoiding Lucifer’s ring of fire. Michael nodded as Lucifer got up, wand in hand. “Then, well, umm, Morningstar advances to the finals, I guess. You can shake hands if you want.” 

Michael walked one, two, three steps to Lucifer, more steps than necessary and took his hand, pulling him closer. Lilac eyes meet green ones, they were so close that Lucifer could count how many freckles Michael had on her face. They were so close that he could feel her warm breath colliding against his cocky smile of superiority. 

“Both of us know who really won, Morningstar. I have no interest in fighting if you repress your power like this,” she whispered, and as she stepped away said, “Good luck tomorrow against Aziraphale.”

  
  


On the eighth day the Tournament stands were as crowded as they had never been. It looked like all of Hogwarts was there, as it probably was. Crowley hadn't expected he would need to choose between cheering for Lucifer and Aziraphale in the finals. Lucifer had won the tournament every single time since his fourth year, and it was Aziraphale's first year competing. Nobody, not even Pomona Sprout, thought he would make it to the finals, but Aziraphale didn’t care about what people thought he could do, and got to the final round anyway. When the moment came, Crowley didn’t cheer for either of them, he was in the first row, wand in hand, just in case it was necessary. Everybody was eager to see this duel, and everybody knew that neither Lucifer nor Aziraphale were planning to go easy on the other. The tension was palpable.

  
_Eight... Nine... Ten... Places!_

_“Vagor-in-favilla_ ” [1] Lucifer whispered to his wand. A thick cloud of smoke came from behind him and surrounded the ring and even extended to the first rows. He disappeared inside of it, slithering around the ring. Ashes flew around, making Aziraphale’s throat and eyes itch. 

With a gentle wave of his wand Aziraphale said, “Let there be light.” dispersing the thick smoke in a small area around him, giving himself room to breathe. He stood in silence, protected from the cloud of ashes. Waiting calmly, he watched the smoke surrounding his protected space swirl as if it was alive, while he tried to find the figure of the other student. 

Aziraphale felt a warm breeze on his back and he turned around quickly. Lucifer snarled “ _ Ignis!”  _ [2]. He emerged from the smoke engulfed in flames which didn’t seem to burn him but rather seemed an extension of himself. 

“ _ Protego! _ ” Aziraphale shouted, conjuring a barrier against the fire. As Lucifer walked towards him the fire kept coming in strong waves, wrapping around Aziraphale and the protective barrier, making him incapable of attacking. Students murmured in awe to one another, all of them lost at the incredible scene. 

Aziraphale took a deep breath, peeking from inside the ball of fire and said with a soft smile “ _ Coelum… indomitus _ _.’”  _ [3] The barrier disappeared and a blinding light filled the room. A fierce wind made Lucifer recoil and discontinue his fire spell to protect himself. “ _Avis!_ ” shouted Aziraphale and the room cheered in amazement as dozens of doves attacked the Slytherin student. 

Aziraphale smiled timidly to himself as the cheering continued.  Lucifer was furious, his brown hair disheveled and his cheek bleeding lightly from an attack Aziraphale managed to land. 

The duel became more and more intense with every spell. It was not only the longest duel of the year, but probably in Hogwarts history. If Michael’s and Lucifer’s duel had been fierce, this exceeded all expectations, and there were a _lot_ of expectations. With every attack Lucifer became more feral and more ravenous, responding more and more with sudden violence. His spells were getting darker, flirting closer and closer to Dark Arts, but not quite enough. Aziraphale was tired, but in tip top condition. He had managed to block every single one of Lucifer’s attacks, and even landed a strike once. They had been dueling for over half an hour. They were both breathing heavily, feeling tired and hurt. But to be truthful, Aziraphale looked a lot better than Lucifer. 

Everyone, teachers and students alike, was silent. The Headmaster’s face was unreadable. She hadn’t blinked since the duel started. Crowley hadn’t blinked either, and he couldn’t do it even if he tried. Trying to breathe required too much concentration, such concentration that he needed to use in watching Aziraphale and Lucifer.

Lucifer looked like chaos incarnate. His eyes were lilac pearls floating in an ocean of blood red waters. His pride was beginning to break and he needed just one single word to destroy it. In the silence, over the sound of Lucifer’s panting, Aziraphale said, “If you’re tired, Morningstar, you could just give up,  _ dear _ .” 

And there it was.

You could even hear Lucifer’s fury. Some students would swear that peacock feathers popped up from his hair just from rage alone.

“ _ Sectumsempra! _ ”

Aziraphale conjured a protective shield fast enough to cover him, but not fast enough to protect him entirely. He was bleeding like hell from his arm, but he was still standing. He would never forget the look of raw outrage in Lucifer’s face as his best spell, his most perfected spell, his design,  _ his creation  _ was blocked. 

Lucifer impulsively started to attack again, ignoring the presence of hundreds of students and teachers. Unconsciously, guided only by ravenous wrath, he started to project a bolt of lightning . He managed to mouth the first syllable but desisted when an ethereal unicorn, a Patronus cast by the Headmaster, blocked him and protected Aziraphale. The Headmaster entered the dueling ring, walking towards Lucifer menacingly.

“The duel is finished. Lucifer Morningstar is disqualified.” she said.

Lucifer stood before her. The curse was still trying to escape from his mouth, arm aimed at the Headmaster's chest, his wand begging him to attack.

“I am sorry, I thought I could bring him to the edge to make him use a Dark Curse.”

“It’s all right Aziraphale, it was enough.” The Headmaster said, lifting her hand. In her office, standing before her, were Aziraphale, Michael, Uriel and Jophiel. “He is using Dark Arts. I can’t ignore it anymore. I am the one who must apologize; I’m sorry for putting you in such danger. All of you. Thank you for your collaboration.” She said and the students nodded. 

“Thank you all, but especially to you two,” Dumbledore said from behind her, looking at Aziraphale and Michael firmly. “For warning us.”

“Now you can leave. Congratulations on winning, Aziraphale. It was well-deserved.” She winked, trying to lift their spirits. “Sorry, Michael, we all know that you shouldn’t have surrendered,” the Headmaster said. 

“It was necessary. Aziraphale succeeded in getting him to the edge; I failed. Winning wasn’t my interest,” she said. The Headmaster gestured to them and all the students left.

“Albus, could you please leave too? I need a moment alone.” Dumbledore left in silence, bowing his head. She looked at her desk, where a picture of her with an eleven-year-old Lucifer Morningstar in his shining new Slytherin uniform was looking back. “My own son is designing Dark curses under my nose, while meanwhile I’m too busy reading about Muggles to realize. What a terrible mother I am.”

There were many laws to control the type of spells people designed. Those laws were created to stop wizards like Lucifer, who created curses designed to kill. That spell was one of the darkest she ever saw and coming from a seventeen-year-old boy made it worse. Who knows what else he had been doing under her very nose? Due to her incompetence and oversight, her son fell into the dark. She had put not only Aziraphale at risk, but also Michael and Uriel. She looked at the picture on her desk again and thought how many times she had seen Raphael Crowley at her house over the years. How she watched him grow alongside her son. If Aziraphale and Michael were right about Lucifer, then Aziraphale was right about Lucifer destroying Raphael too. 

_ “It was my fault too. Don’t take the blame only on yourself. _ ” The sorting hat spoke from the top shelf.  _ “I know what you’re thinking about. And you must know what  _ I’m _ thinking about. I should have put the redhead in Hufflepuff when I had the chance. I knew Slytherin was dangerous for him, I should've known better and realize that Ravenclaw wasn’t a good option either.”  _ The Headmaster gave a bittersweet laugh. A hat and two kids realized before her that her son was ready to become a killer.

She decided that disqualifying Lucifer would hurt his ego and pride more than a second place, and to be honest, at that moment there wasn't anything more she could do. If he had won or not the rest of the year would have been the same. 

After that demonstration of power in the Dueling Tournament, Lucifer’s inner circle grew even bigger. But other people had feared him before, and they avoided him now even more. After the Tournament even Crowley,  _ especially Crowley, _ started to avoid Lucifer too; he wasn’t talking to him. Well, not consciously. 

Lucifer respected Crowley’s desires to not talk to him, but Winter break was over, and Lucifer got into the girl’s bathroom alone. He had spent the whole of their sixth year trying to learn Parseltongue, making Crowley teach him phrases under the Imperius Curse. But no matter how hard he tried the Chamber kept ignoring his attempts to open it. If Crowley didn’t want to talk to him, he didn’t need to do it, but what Crowley didn’t remember couldn’t hurt him. It wasn’t as if the eagle who guarded the entrance of the Ravenclaw Common Room had riddles that Lucifer couldn’t solve. Or that he didn't have the cloak. 

_ “Reveal your secrets and kneel before me, for I am the true heir of Salazar Slytherin. Obey my command and attack,” _ Crowley hissed in the girl’s bathroom with Lucifer behind him, aiming at him with his wand. Lucifer couldn’t speak Parseltongue, but who needs to do it when you have perfectly mastered the Imperius Curse.

  
  


Months went by and a single night did not pass without Crowley having a nightmare and sending his snakes to awaken Aziraphale to bring him to the Astronomy Tower. 

  
  


When, in the Great Hall, the Headmaster announced that a first-year Hufflepuff boy was found petrified, the first thing Aziraphale did was to look at the Slytherin table. Lucifer looked back at him with a blank expression. He didn’t say a word, but it was confirmation enough for Aziraphale.

“It’s him, isn’t it Aziraphale? He has opened it?” Crowley asked, head buried in Aziraphale arms. 

“You don’t know for sure, dear.” Aziraphale tried to comfort him.

“Then why do I keep dreaming about the Chamber, Aziraphale? Why do I keep dreaming of Lucifer hissing in my head?” Crowley said, looking at the empty bottles of dreamless potions and remedies for headaches that have been completely useless for months. Aziraphale just hugged him, not knowing what to do. 

After the student was found the Headmaster, during dinner, asked for assistance from all the students, explaining that nobody would be punished for bringing information, that the only thing that mattered was the safety of the students and to help the one who was petrified. 

The next to be found, a second-year student also from Hufflepuff, was on the staircase to the second floor. Parents began taking children from the school. When the Headmaster again requested help, some of the students recoiled in their seats, starting to look truly scared. In a tender voice she tried to appease them. New rules were declared: do not walk alone, change all the passwords of the Common Rooms and a curfew was set at 8 pm for every student.

The third-year Hufflepuff student was found frozen, with an expression of utter terror, near the door of the Hufflepuff Common Room. The curfew changed to 7 pm, all trips to Hogsmeade were cancelled, and teachers guarded groups of students and walked with them from the Common Rooms to classes, the Great Hall and back. The Headmaster tried to calm herself: the students were going to be okay, they were petrified, but Lucifer wasn’t going to kill any of them. 

_ “He isn’t a killer,” _ she told herself. The potion to turn the petrified students back was going to be ready in two weeks and all this was going to be over. Meanwhile, she needed to keep a close eye on Aziraphale. He was the one in real danger. Or so she thought.

The fourth-year Hufflepuff boy was found lying just a couple of feet away from the kitchens. Beneath him was a pool of blood. He had been slowly bleeding all night. He was sent to the infirmary as soon as he was found. The teachers closed off the hallway before any students could see him. The Headmaster shut the door to her office. The teachers were begging her to close the school, asking her for answers. But she couldn’t do that, the only way to put an end to this reign of terror was to keep Lucifer in the school until the Aurors came for him. She only wanted them to hurry up. 

Aziraphale looked at the Slytherin table after every announcement. Lucifer always returned his gaze with the same unperturbed expression. When the Headmaster eyed Lucifer at the table after the fifth student was found, Lucifer looked back with the expression of someone who regrets nothing.

  
  


The second day of April the body of a fifth-year Hufflepuff was found, barely holding on to life, hanging from a wall just above the entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room. The expression of raw agony on his face made the Headmaster’s stomach twist in pain. Next to the student’s body, a message was found written in his own blood. As the teachers took the student’s body and moved it to the infirmary, the Headmaster stood alone in front of the wall, the blood speaking to her in a familiar voice.

_ The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware. _

  
  


Aziraphale could see the pattern. Each of the students that were attacked were from Hufflepuff, from years leading up to his own, and each was injured more than the previous ones. Aziraphale took a long breath; Lucifer was not stalking, nor sending a warning. He was sending a dire threat. Aziraphale took the hint. As Michael had warned years ago, Morningstar was finally getting out of control.

Crowley felt the need to wash his hands more frequently than ever, and with too much force, for no reason but just the sudden feeling that something was very, very wrong.

  
  


The hallway towards Aziraphale’s Divination class was empty, which didn’t usually happen. Well, empty except for Lucifer Morningstar leaning against a wall and looking at nothing in particular through a window. Aziraphale walked carefully down the corridor, wand firmly grasped under his cloak.

“Tick tock, tick tock…” Lucifer whispered, clicking his tongue when Aziraphale passed by behind him. 

Aziraphale stopped, standing behind him, too close. Neither of them looked at each other. “If you want a rematch, you just need to ask. Not to send me death threats.” 

“If we are going to do this, Fell, we are going to do it right.”

“Set the place and time, I’ll be there. Just send me a note, Morningstar, not a corpse.” 

It was dark when Aziraphale opened the door. It was 3 am and Lucifer was already in the Room of Requirement. Aziraphale was surprised not to find Lucifer’s fan club or a gigantic snake with him. Still, Lucifer didn’t give him much time to appreciate the room. The dueling ring was already set in place. Even if Aziraphale had won the official Tournament, and Lucifer hadn’t been easy on him there, this was different. Aziraphale had memorized and practiced every counter spell for any curse Lucifer could have learned. But even if Aziraphale had been training for a full year with Albus Dumbledore and the Headmaster, just to face Lucifer’s dark magic, Lucifer had still designed his own spells. And the Slytherin was truly imaginative when it came to destruction and torture. Aziraphale wasn’t a match for an unrestrained Lucifer, but that didn’t stop the Hufflepuff from trying to take him on.

“What are you trying to prove, Morningstar?”

“Nothing that you can understand.”

“Why don’t you try me?”

“Because I want you dead.”

Aziraphale had fought remarkably even being at a disadvantage, but Lucifer won. It has been a lot shorter than their previous duel; it stopped at seven minutes when Lucifer, for the first time in his life, sent the Cruciatus Curse to a person. Lucifer had felt strong before, but the raw power of the spell running through his veins was undreamt of. He had never felt this drunk with power before. It was carnal, obscene. But his glory didn’t last. While Aziraphale kneeled, screaming on the floor, a black snake slithered from his cloak and assumed his human form.

“Don’t make me do this, Lucifer.” Crowley’s hand was steady. He was aiming at Lucifer, more than ready to strike, and Aziraphale’s screams only helped him to erase his doubts. 

“Starmaker, my love,” Lucifer said with a sweetened tone, carefully turning to Crowley and slowly releasing Aziraphale from the curse. “I’m sorry.” 

Crowley’s pupils slitted dangerously; his golden eyes alone were a threat. Aziraphale’s screams tapered off as he started to recover from the curse, still feeling dizzy. As Aziraphale began to breathe normally, Crowley released the breath he had been holding. Thinking that Lucifer was apologizing for the Cruciatus Curse, Crowley lowered his guard. But Lucifer wasn’t apologizing for the Cruciatus, and neither was he lowering his wand. 

_ “Imperio.”  _ Lucifer shouted and Aziraphale jumped to his feet as quickly as his injured body let him.

“I thought you loved him.” Aziraphale’s breathing was agonizing; his lungs weren’t working as they should and standing still made every part of his body ache.

“I do.”

“Using him as a human shield doesn’t exactly scream love to me, Morningstar.”

“As if I care about what you think.” Lucifer barked at him, tracing with his wand along Crowley’s cheek. 

“I’m going to leave this room,” Lucifer said to Crowley, or the vessel of his body that was standing there ready to receive orders. “And you are going to forget everything you saw, everything you heard here, my Starmaker. And you,” Lucifer turned to face Aziraphale, the rage running through his blood. “Next time don’t be such a coward. Come to me alone as I did.”

“How many times did you do this to him? You know he has nightmares; you knew what this was doing to him, and you keep doing it.” Aziraphale was panting, his head aching so much. The floor around him was spinning, his limbs felt heavy, as if he was sinking in quicksand. Nauseated by Lucifer's actions and the Cruciatus Curse in equal parts, Aziraphale spat, “Morningstar, how do you live with yourself?” 

Lucifer paused a long time before speaking. His normal egocentric tone had disappeared, and he avoided looking at Crowley. “I don’t.” 

Lucifer turned Crowley’s body toward him and kissed his lips, his cheeks and forehead softly. In that position, if Aziraphale wanted to attack Lucifer he would have to attack Crowley too. Lucifer whispered in Crowley’s ear before turning him around again to face Aziraphale. 

Lucifer, rejoicing in his victory, left the room. Aziraphale waited for Crowley to come back to reality. If he was forgetting everything it would take some time, but Aziraphale could wait. Aziraphale would wait for him all the time it was necessary. 

But Crowley wasn’t remembering and he wasn’t coming back. Still under the Imperius Curse, and aiming his wand at his friend, Crowley whispered  _ “Sectumsempra” _ . Then, while Aziraphale laid on the floor bleeding, he left.

Lucifer was outside the room, waiting for him. That night Crowley had the worst nightmares in his life. Lucifer sat with him all night in the Slytherin’s room. 

Aziraphale was trembling, his tears mixing with his blood on the cold floor. He was so scared, but at least he wasn’t alone. A bright unicorn appeared in his dreams when he did fall asleep. 

  
  


It wasn’t the first time Crowley couldn’t remember when he fell asleep and it wasn’t his first time with nightmares either. But it was the first night that he had nightmares about Aziraphale. If he only knew who Aziraphale was everything would be easier.

When Crowley woke up Lucifer was sitting by his side. 

“You came last night in the middle of a panic attack. I didn’t know what to do. I stayed awake in case something happened, Raphael. I’m sorry I...” Lucifer said. He looked terrible; after sitting beside him all night. His eyes were red and tired. Crowley couldn’t tell who looked more deplorable between the two of them. Lucifer looked like he had been crying all night, drowning in guilt. 

During the previous weeks, their relationship had deteriorated, and Crowley couldn’t even remember why. He thought he was such a horrible boyfriend, being jealous of Lucifer teaching people and not giving him attention, but still coming in the middle of the night to his room for comfort. And with Lucifer being so diligently lovesick for him, he had stayed up all night taking care of him. Crowley laughed, hugging him, apologizing.

“Please don’t apologize to me, Starmaker, you are here with me, that is all I want.”

Crowley didn’t go to the Great Hall that day, nor to class. He stayed in Lucifer’s room. He thought about going to the infirmary, but he had already done that numerous times last year and this year as well. They always gave him a dreamless sleep potion so he wouldn’t have nightmares, and some other potions to help him to cope with headaches. But he didn’t want any of that. He wanted to know what those dreams meant, to stop blacking out and losing time. To know when he did fall asleep, to stop the nightmares. Crowley cursed at the air.

_ “Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!”  _

Meanwhile Lucifer was having a meltdown in the Room of Requirement, and Aziraphale was nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think it can’t get worse than this, you’re wrong. I’m not even trying to hide the angst anymore. 
> 
> Spell translations:
> 
> [1] Vagor-in-favilla: I wander in ashes.  
> [2] Ignis: Fire  
> [3] Coelum indomitus: Heaven unreleased.
> 
> Also!  
> There is an alternative ending to this chapter, you can read it pressing "next work" where are the "extras" scenes that I've been writing about this AU. The alternative ending it's chapter two, and it's also called "Dies Irae".


	10. Pyrrhic Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You will find nothing in chapter but angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW/CW: Violence, torture, animal cruelty/death, blood, dissociation, dubious consent, soft smut.
> 
> hey, first I wanted to say: sorry for the long wait, my health wasn't exactly in tip top condition these last weeks, so, that. 
> 
> Second, it also turned out that my wonderful beta had incredible ideas for this chapter that made me have to rewrite some things, so, that's other thing. We wanted to make a really good chapter, and I must say, without her I wouldn't be capable of achieving how beautiful (and angsty) this turned out. 
> 
> Nothing more to add, enjoy (and suffer).

Aziraphale didn’t want to sleep. His stained and wet clothes made him feel chilled to the bone. He was trembling, his tears mixed with his blood on the cold floor. He was overwhelmed and frightened. His uncontrollable hiccups were the only sound in the room. He didn’t want to sleep; he wanted to get up and chase Crowley. He wanted to get up, _he needed to get up_ , but it simply wasn’t possible. Remaining awake and not giving up felt like the only way to stay alive, so he kept his eyes open, even while crying he kept them open. _I need to get up. I need to get up. I refuse to sleep. I need to get up_. The room seemed to spin and shift around him. He felt that nothing in this cold and inhospitable place would provide him with a means of survival if he gave up. The room remained silent; the tall walls felt like they were closing in on him.

With the thought of Crowley on his mind, Aziraphale blacked out.

Lucifer had decided that Crowley should stop using the potions that Madam Pomfrey was providing. He sent a letter to Beelzebub and three days later a package arrived with new potions and instructions on how and when to drink them.

Crowley stopped losing time. It felt like a miracle. The new potions had nothing to do with this, it was simply that Lucifer had stopped messing with his head since Obliviating him following his attack on Aziraphale. Crowley still had nightmares, but Lucifer always kept him safe. Crowley had forgotten why he decided to become a Ravenclaw, he felt so good in the Slytherin’s room.

Aziraphale was still missing. In Crowley’s nightmares a blonde figure with no face screamed in agony.

“Today is a very special class,” Lucifer said, standing in the center of the Room of Requirement. All the other students were scattered around him, some standing and some sitting on tables, sofas or the floor. 

“I heard your fears. Some of you asked me if it were true that I could cast the Curses, as rumours say; and if I could teach them to you, so that we could learn how to protect ourselves. My fear is the same: How can I protect myself and my loved ones from something I don't know?" 

The class was silent, the students listened with great respect. Lucifer always commanded attention. This time was no different, but he was more compelling than ever before. A couple of students took a step back, others didn't blink, and their eyes followed him obediently as he started to walk around the room. 

"I didn't think that I could teach you the Curses. I thought we needed a real professor, someone experienced. I asked Dumbledore, the one who _should_ be teaching us how to protect ourselves, but he doesn't care,” he said, his voice darkened with disdain. “Teachers don't care. So _I_ am here, doing what the teachers don't want to do because _I_ listen. Because _I_ care.” 

Lucifer nodded at Eric. The boy approached, holding a cage with a big rat in it. Lucifer murmured a soft 'thank you' and stroked his shoulder tenderly, like someone would pet a dog.

“This is not going to be pleasant. If someone here has a weak stomach, you can leave now. I will not think less of you for that,” Lucifer said, and gave his students time to withdraw. None of them moved and they regarded him with even more respect and admiration. They felt understood. In Lucifer they found someone who listened to them and didn’t judge them. The students felt relieved that someone finally accepted and cared for them in a way other people couldn’t. Lucifer smiled at them, a warm smile that he only used for them. “Shall we begin then?”

He aimed his wand at the rat in the cage and spoke, clearly and loudly for everybody to hear, for everybody to know, to understand what he was doing. _“Imperio!”_ The rat stood still and then started running in circles, then stopped again. 

"You know what the Imperious Curse does. But no one tells you how much it can mess with your mind. What kind of horrible things it can make you do.” Eric opened the cage while Lucifer was still controlling the rat. It was free to leave the cage but was not moving. "It can mess with your mind an awful lot.” The rat bit its own tail, soundlessly. Then, Eric closed the cage and Lucifer lowered his wand, freeing the rat from the Curse. It shrieked in pain. 

"But of course, a rat is a rat, and a person is a person. Eric, please.” Eric stood still in front of Lucifer. "You ready?” he asked, and Eric nodded as he gave Lucifer his wand, so he would be absolutely helpless. Some of the students whispered to each other. "I'll give you all five seconds to decide if you want to close your eyes,” Lucifer said to his students and then shouted.

_“Imperio.”_

Eric, no longer able to control his actions, brought his arm to his mouth and bit it. He bit harder and harder, until he drew blood. "Come on Eric. Fight back. Repel me,” Lucifer whispered to himself. Eric was still biting his own arm. The students’ anxiety mounted as they watched their classmate.

Eric exhaled sharply. He stamped his foot and tried to move his head. His eyes were unfocused, lost in the thick fog Lucifer created in his mind to confuse him.

"Yes, come on, you have done this before. You can do it again Eric," He said, still aiming his wand at him, not being at all easy on him. Eric took another step and bit himself with more force, his fist tightly clenched. Suddenly, with a guttural shout he opened his mouth. His hands were trembling, and he could not close his jaw. Lucifer waved his wand, trying to make Eric bite himself again, and even though Eric raised his arm to his mouth, he did not bite it. With another wave of Lucifer’s wand, Eric collapsed on the floor, finally free from the Curse. 

Lucifer ran to him. "You were amazing Eric, come on, breathe.” He kneeled beside Eric, stroking his hair and back until he managed to stand up again.

"The next spell I’m going to demonstrate is the Cruciatus. Again, you can leave if you want.” His students watched him with mixed emotions. The atmosphere in the room was odd; they were not necessarily terrorized, but that didn't mean they were not afraid. After a pause, Lucifer aimed his wand at the cage. And with his shout, the rat shrieked in pain.

"Do any of you know what this Curse feels like?” Lucifer asked, as the rat twisted in the cage. Nobody answered. "It feels like piercing blades cutting through your skull, being set on fire while also freezing cold. It feels like bathing in sulfur and your skin being stripped from your body. It feels like your bones are being torn from within.” Lucifer walked towards Eric, not releasing the rat from the spell. He looked at his students with no trace of pleasure. He just had a tired look in his eyes. "It hurts. A whole lot.” He finally freed the rat from the spell and placed his own wand in Eric's hand. "You may act whenever you're ready.”

With no warning and a quick wave of his wand, Eric shouted, _"Crucio!"_ and Lucifer kneeled on the floor, screaming in pain. The students froze, watching their teacher, Lucifer, the one student they respected, feared and admired, writhing helplessly. Behind him was Eric, hand steady and firm, showing no sign of doubt. Various students recoiled in fear. Others tried to avoid looking at the cruel scene. Crowley watched, horror-stricken. 

Lucifer's body trembled as he stood, little by little, neck twisting and his head moving in rapid short jerks. His jaw was clenched, and it was impossible for him to open his eyes. In between breaths that didn't reach to his lungs, Lucifer shouted in a harsh, broken voice, "get.... out... of... my... HEAD!” as he finally collapsed, his head bowed and his hands barely holding him up. The wand flew from Eric’s hand as Lucifer expelled him from his mind. 

"Step back; give him space to breathe,” Eric told the other students, commanding them with greater force than any of them had heard him use before. With his head still bowed and his eyes closed, Lucifer lifted his hand to Eric’s. "Are you okay Lu?” Eric asked, pulling Lucifer's arm over his shoulders. Lucifer, while still having trouble fully opening his eyes and breathing, gave Eric’s free arm a friendly, if shaky, punch.

"You did amazingly well, Eric. You're improving.” He chuckled encouragingly at Eric. The rest of the students, relieved, began to relax. 

After giving Lucifer some time to recover, Eric sat on a table, leaving him alone in the center of the room. The students fell silent. He was holding his own wand again.

Lucifer stood in silence, looking at his own wand. No one dared to say a word. 

"Some people say that I hate the other Houses of this school. That I hate muggles and muggle-born as well. I don't hate them. People tend to call me... evil. I don't mind. We are powerful souls that have been blessed by magic and that's why we are united here. _Those people_ who always treat us like we are dangerous, like we are evil, that run from us and point their accusing fingers at us as if we are despicable, are afraid of what they don’t understand. People always fear power and knowledge. We are together here because we are different, because we don’t care about their pointing fingers and their stupid opinions. We are here because we have dreams, because we have ambition. I don't differentiate between people. I'll teach anybody who wants to learn. Anybody whose ambition surpasses their fear. We are here, in this very room, because something joins us together: the desire to ascend. We are here to take our rightful place in this world that wants us to recoil in fear from our own potential.”

Lucifer walked around as he spoke and aimed his wand at the rat in the cage. Under the Imperius Curse the rat walked out and ran around the feet of his students. Lucifer kept talking and the students looked at him in astonishment, amazed at the amount of concentration he had to be able to do the spell again and keep talking and moving around the room at the same time. 

"We dream of bigger things. We live and we fight, for truth, for freedom.” He looked directly at Crowley, with his bright red hair and bright red cheeks, returning his gaze in awe. It was now or never to finally get it right. "And for _love,_ ” Lucifer said with a smile. With a rapid wave of his wand and a shout, a green lightning bolt struck the rat, leaving it lifeless at the feet of the only Ravenclaw in the room as if it was a gift. 

"And _that_ is our potential,” he said, pointing at the dead animal. Nobody dared to even whisper a word, a lot of them didn't ever dare to breathe. Lucifer's presence, Lucifer's commands, were overwhelming. "You, all of you, are much more powerful than you think you are. This room is filled with ambition, filled with people I respect. I'm here, in the Morning Star Circle, teaching you everything they don't want us to learn. I respect every one of you as my students as you respect me as your teacher. But not only that, I consider every single one of you a teacher too. I learn from you as much as you learn from me. This is what I wish for us: to be free, to leave behind the old ways.” Lucifer stopped, giving every one of the students crowded in the room a stern glare, recovering from the sudden passion burning in his soul. “I want every single one of you to rise up for what you believe.” With a nod, he lowered his wand and finished his speech. 

Eric started clapping, and it spread from Eric to other students, and then others, until every one of them were standing and applauding him. Lucifer bowed his head, a soft smile on his lips. He never failed to enjoy attention, but this was the sincerest he had ever received.

"To the Morning Star Circle!” Eric shouted, and a spark of light illuminated the tip of his wand. 

"To the Morning Star Circle!” another student joined in and raised his wand. Crowley watched the rest of the students raise their wands and, looking at Lucifer with a smile, he raised his.

"To the Morning Star Circle!” Crowley cheered, and with a wave of his wand a bright lilac star shone above them.

Lucifer looked at the star in awestruck delight as the rest of the students finally discovered why Crowley was called _"The Starmaker.”_

"Now,” Lucifer's voice came out slightly broken, "class dismissed. Next class we're going to learn how to create and cast the Cruciatus Curse. Come prepared. None of you are obliged to attend. And of course, you can bring anybody who wants to learn, no matter what House or blood status. And everybody… thank you, all of you.”

“What did you think?” Lucifer was sitting with Crowley, just after the class.

“I love it. But don’t you think that calling the club _‘The Morning Star’_ is a little too narcissistic?” Crowley joked. Everybody else was leaving or going about their own business in the room. Lucifer had made it clear last week that when he was with Crowley no one should bother them. Crowley was captivated by both Lucifer’s attempts to strengthen their relationship and his speech to the class.

“Well, I’m the professor. And all of this was born thanks to your cup in divination class, so I thought it fit. And if someone was against it, they should have said something. It’s too late now.” 

Crowley laughed. “I’m against it. I propose to change the name to Crowley’s Fan Club,” he joked.

“You have to be a teacher to propose a new name. Or found your own study group.”

“Then, Tuesdays at 4 pm I’ll teach Herbology, and Astronomy on Sundays, after your DADA classes. And when you decide to open your own school, _maybe_ I’ll consider teaching there as well. What do you think?” Crowley said with a smile. Lucifer could only hug him. 

“That I could marry you right here and now, my Starmaker.”

This tender moment was interrupted by the black, scarred hand of Mammon over Lucifer’s shoulder. He eyed it without moving from his spot on the sofa with Crowley.

“Whatever it is, I don’t care,” Lucifer said in an acid tone, grabbing Mammon’s hand, piercing it with his sharp nails. “Tell me later. Can’t you see I’m busy right now?” 

“Lucifer, Eric is asking for you.” 

Lucifer stood up, looking around the room for Eric. If anything could tear him away from Crowley it was Eric. He was in the farthest corner of the room, out of sight of the rest of the students. A portrait that had not been in the Room ten minutes ago was hanging next to him. A damsel who, judging from the style of her pink dress, was probably painted during the French Revolution, was whispering something to the young Slytherin. Lucifer walked towards Eric, leaving both Mammon and Crowley behind without a second thought. 

“What’s happening?” he asked, and the woman in the picture ran away. 

“Aurors are in the School,” Eric said, under his breath, looking around the room to make sure nobody heard them, “and she told me they’re looking for you.” Lucifer cursed. He had been playing for too long, he needed to put his plan in action as soon as possible. 

“Lu, it’s time; give me your wand.” Eric extended his hand to take it, offering his own wand in return. 

As they exchanged wands, Lucifer whispered, “try to keep a low profile and go unnoticed.” 

“My best talent,” Eric said with a smirk, holding his new wand that trusted him as if it was his own, the wand that was stained with dark magic. “Have I ever failed you?” 

Lucifer tousled his hair with affection. “Never. I owe you so much Eric, thank you.” He hid his new wand that was unsullied by any kind of Dark Curse in his robe. It responded to him as it was his own; it trusted him as it was made for him. 

“No, Lu, I owe you. Now, this wand is yours, I give it to you.”

Lucifer walked out of the room like someone who is perfectly innocent and had nothing to fear. He walked to the Headmaster’s office, where his mother and two Aurors were waiting for him.

“I’m the Headmaster of this school and I asked you to come. You can’t question him without me present!” the Headmaster shouted, and Lucifer heard it from outside the door, enjoying himself. 

“You are also the mother of the suspect. You must stay outside.” The Auror opened the door and dismissed her. Lucifer was standing outside wearing a mask of confusion. 

The Aurors asked him to enter and sit in front of the desk. His mother waited outside.

“We are going to ask you some questions, Mr. Morningstar. We expect your cooperation,” one of the Aurors said. She was a tall woman with strong features, wide shoulders and bright pink hair. 

“Of course.”

The other Auror, a man with a soft smile and scarred face said, “We are asking you to answer our questions and… to drink some Veritaserum.” Opening the bottle, he put some drops in his mouth, then offered him a piece of chocolate. 

“What is the chocolate for?”

“You can eat it to offset the flavor of the Veritaserum. It doesn’t taste particularly good.” Lucifer drank the potion. It burned his tongue. 

“Now, Morningstar Lucifer. You are seventeen?” 

“Yes Madam.”

“You are aware that six of your classmates have been found petrified?” 

“Six? I thought they were five.” He pretended to look worried. The man made some notes on his pad with a Muggle pen. Another notepad with a quill floated above them, writing every word of their conversation. 

“Five petrified, one is missing,” she said. “We are going to be very clear. You are a suspect. Did you attack those students?” 

“Not at all.”

“Did you write in blood, “ _The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir beware_?” 

“No Madam, it wasn’t me.” 

“Do you know who it could have been?” the man asked. His soft smile had disappeared. The game of good cop and bad cop was over. Lucifer thought and thought, searching in his mind, but where the memories of Crowley under the Imperius Curse writing on the walls with blood, and of both of them in the bathroom of the second floor opening the Chamber should be, he only heard only the soft voice of Eric saying _Obliviate_.

 _Oh Eric, how can I repay you for this._

He pretended to consider the Auror’s question. “I have no idea, sir.” The man took more notes and sat on the Headmaster’s desk, looking back at his companion. 

“Lucifer, we need to take a look into your wand.” The female extended her hand.

Wands, in the magical world, are bound to their user. It’s a sacred bond; wizards don’t go back and forth lending their wands. Firstly, because the wands are the center of a wizard’s power, and without them they are helpless. Secondly, wands are individuals themselves, and don’t obey just anyone who happens to grab them. 

But if the wizards are bound closely enough to each other, if they trust each other enough, then sometimes exchanging wands can work.

“Cast a spell with it to demonstrate that it is your wand.”

“ _Accio_ chocolate,” Lucifer said, and another bar of chocolate came out of the pocket of the male Auror. “May I, sir?” Lucifer asked, the taste of Veritaserum still on his tongue. The Auror smiled and nodded and Lucifer took a bite. 

Lucifer gave his wand to the woman. Pointing at Lucifer’s recently acquired wand with her own, she whispered, “ _Reveal your secrets.”_ Blue smoke came out of it, innocent spells that had nothing to do with Black Arts. 

“Is this really your wand Lucifer?” asked the man.

“Yes, sir.” 

The Aurors looked at each other in silence for a long moment. “You’re free to go kid,” the female Auror said.

The man opened the door for Lucifer, and the Headmaster jumped up and approached him. 

“Lucifer, are you all right?” She tried to grasp his shoulder. He recoiled, escaping from her touch with a grimace of disgust. Instead, the female Auror took her hand.

“Madam, Lucifer is free to go. But we should talk.”

Aziraphale opened his eyes slowly, finding himself in an unfamiliar room. He had been unconscious for many days. The bed was rough and old, and the walls looked even older. There were no windows, just floating candles and a door. The Headmaster, of course, knew the school better than anyone, even better than the map Crowley had designed. She needed to keep Aziraphale out of Lucifer’s sight.

“How are you feeling, Aziraphale?” she asked. She was sitting by his side. 

“I feel a lot better, Ma’am. I think it’s time for me to go back to class.” He tried to sit up, but his injured body didn’t let him. 

“Aziraphale, you lost a lot of blood. You shouldn’t exert yourself like this. You don’t have to keep doing this if you don’t want to. You could go home. Lucifer won’t be here next year.” She stroked his hair with maternal care, a guilty look on her face.

“I don’t think I can leave. I don’t think I could get out of this even if I wanted to.” He tried to laugh, but not only did this hurt his ribs, he wasn’t feeling joyful enough to joke.

She sighed. Of course he wouldn’t go home. He wouldn’t leave the school and he would keep risking his life.

“How is Crowley?” he asked.

“Aziraphale, I have bad news.”

_“He is innocent. We haven’t found anything in his wand, and we gave him a strong dose of Veritaserum. He drank the potion, and he ate not one, but two bars of chocolate with the potion in them. He is innocent; accept it,” the man had told the Headmaster. “We are going to inspect the school. Starting with you, Mrs. Mornin-”_

_“That is not my name anymore!”_

_“You should control your tone,” the female Auror said. “You now stand before us after accusing your own son of practicing Dark Arts. Did you think that this would destroy your ex-husband’s reputation? It’s only making you look guilty. Give us your wand and drink the potion. And if one more student is found petrified, you’re losing your job.”_

If Lucifer trusted anyone in this world, it was Eric. And as the memories of the bathroom on the second floor came back to him from his own wand after Eric returned it, he smiled. Everything was planned to the smallest detail. 

Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to look at Crowley. It had been so long since he had been dressed in Slytherin colors, and it had taken him a lot of work to leave the pit of venomous snakes. Now he was sitting again at Lucifer’s side at the Slytherin table. 

The circle of Slytherin around them was the same. Ligur and Hastur, Asmodeus, Mammon, Belphegor and Abbadon were the only ones that Aziraphale could recognize by name. But other students flocked to him now, so many more. Aziraphale’s gut twisted in distress. Crowley had never tried to interact with them before, not even with Hastur and Ligur. But now he was receiving a lot of attention from all the Slytherin students while Lucifer watched him with delight.

_“What are you teaching us this week, Crowley?” “I really liked your last class.” “I found this book about astronomy in the library. What do you think about it?” “Would you ever teach us how to make stars?”_

“I don’t think stars are that interesting or useful. It would be better to keep studying Herbology. I have something planned for next week, but it all depends whether Lucifer finds what I asked for or not.”

“Have I ever failed you?” he said jokingly.

“Never.” Crowley said, kissing him on the cheek. Lucifer pulled him closer.

Even if Mammon was Lucifer’s favourite student, he couldn’t begin to aspire to have the trust Lucifer put in Eric. He had become the most loyal of Lucifer’s circle. As Lucifer raised him, taking him under his wing, Eric grew from his old clumsy self to become Lucifer’s most trusted ally. If Eric asked for something, Lucifer obliged. If Lucifer needed something, Eric returned the favor happily. Now Eric was in Fifth year, and if you thought that in previous years he had eyes and ears around the Castle, now you could be sure that he was _everywhere_. 

The very moment that Aziraphale appeared in the Castle again, Eric let his master know. Lucifer congratulated him and put his plan into action. Lucifer had been planning this since Sixth year with extreme patience and care.

Lucifer doesn’t sleep a lot, and when he does it doesn’t last long until he wakes up from nightmares. His nightmares were about a ghost-like figure engulfed in flames, watching him from above as Lucifer sinks in a pool of black water that feels like guilt. Other nightmares were about the same figure made of fire coming from behind, Lucifer hearing his footsteps approach until the sound stops suddenly. When Lucifer looks back, he finds he is alone.

So he tries not to sleep, and only finds comfort when he closes his eyes and sinks into the soft caress of Crowley's hand in his hair, doing nothing, just lying there, resting. But he is still awake and opens his eyes the moment he feels himself slipping into unconsciousness. 

"I want to try a new spell," Lucifer says, his head resting on his boyfriend's legs. 

Crowley hums in return, letting him know he was being acknowledged. "What kind of spell?" His voice sounds like it was coming from a long distance to Lucifer, who is still tired and lost in his dizziness. The shadows of nightmares are still chasing him, and the terror of being left alone shakes him from his stupor.

"An Oath spell. Of belonging." Now Crowley stares at Lucifer and stops caressing him. Lucifer feels the void that Crowley’s hand leaves behind and tries to stay calm.

Lucifer would have loved to have more time to do this, but he needs to act _now_ , with Fell roaming the halls. He would have liked things to be different, and to let Crowley come to him at his own pace, but he knows it's better to be safe than sorry and do what he does best. He needs to push Crowley's buttons, and push these buttons so that Crowley does what Lucifer wants, thinking that it's his own decision, and not Lucifer's.

"I think it's time. I could tell Dagon and Beel to come here, to join us in the Room of Requirement, the gang all together like the old days." He turns to look at Crowley's face, next to him against the bed frame. 

"Do you want to take an oath not only with Dagon and Beel, but with Ligur and Hastur as well?” Crowley says incredulously, and Lucifer knew he was pushing the right buttons because Crowley doesn't like the idea at all.

"And Eric,” Lucifer says with a smile that Crowley doesn’t return. He is quite aware that the relationship Lucifer has with Eric is not romantic, but the bond of friendship they share is strong, and how Eric can draw Lucifer away from him with just a word. It shows clearly on his face, and Lucifer made a cocky smile and added, "and Mammon and Asmodeus of course.” 

This doesn't just spark a feeling of jealousy in Crowley’s heart, it ignites a burning fire, and he not only doesn't like it, he hates the idea. Lucifer rejoices. 

Crowley doesn't hate Asmodeus, not entirely. What he hates it's the way he looks at Lucifer. All of Lucifer's students admire him. But when Asmodeus looks at him he tries to conceal a delight that is not well-hidden, as well as when Friction match purposely draws him closer than any of his other students. It's certainly not well-hidden when Lucifer purposefully touches Asmodeus more than necessary than he touches his other students to correct their postures when casting a newly-learned spell. It is not at all hidden when Asmodeus and Lucifer are fully aware that Crowley is looking and burning with jealousy.

Crowley clicks his tongue against his sharp teeth in annoyance, and Lucifer knows he has pushed every button in the correct order.

"You know that I'm joking, right?” Lucifer asks, a broad smile tinted with arrogance and humour widening his face.

"About the Oath spell?" Crowley asks, not looking at him, still trying to fight the fire churning in his gut. 

"About the others.” 

There is realization in Crowley's snake-like eyes upon hearing Lucifer's suddenly serious tone. 

"I only want to take it with you.”

The realization hits Crowley like falling into a tub of ice-cold water.

"What does that mean, exactly?” Crowley's voice came out in a whisper, his body still as marble, when Lucifer straddled his lap.

"It means what it means.” His lilac eyes are so fixed on the golden ones that Crowley wanted to recoil as a snake would, to hide from a predator more dangerous than himself. “I meant it when I said I wanted to marry you, and I mean it now. I don't want anything to tear us apart.” Crowley doesn't even realize that Lucifer's hand has grasped his own with Lucifer's wand firmly between their fingers.

The silence grew and Crowley lost all ability to talk, his tongue a useless muscle. But Lucifer is still staring at him, drilling into his skull with the intensity of his gaze, and, Crowley realized, _with command_ . With a sharp inhale, Crowley's free hand came to his own chest, a reflex gesture, searching for something, _anything_ , to ground him. But he finds nothing, his chest is empty, and the only thing he can trust to ground him is Lucifer's weight on him, Lucifer's hand caressing his cheek, Lucifer’s hand pressing too strongly against his own, not allowing Crowley to protest that it's starting to hurt. And he realizes he has no option than to obey, because there is nothing surrounding him but Lucifer.

Lucifer couldn't believe his luck when he realized he would not need to use the Imperius Curse, nor he would need to obliviate Crowley and try again. His own pupils were black pools instead of a lilac ocean when Crowley closed his eyes and brought Lucifer's wand to the side of his face.

"Do it." 

Crowley screamed and an ornamental snake appeared on his temple and another snake tattoo appeared on Lucifer’s temple, but painlessly, binding Crowley to him like a possession; he is marked as a belonging. 

The last time Aziraphale had to wait this long to find Crowley alone was in his second year. Now that he had returned to the school, Lucifer kept Crowley even more closely by his side, and it didn’t look as if he was going to leave him alone anytime soon. Aziraphale was glad at least that Lucifer hadn’t tried to kill him again. Finding Crowley alone in a hall was Aziraphale's best option now.

“Hey, Crowley!” It was 4 pm, and Crowley was walking to the Room of Requirement with a big heavy bag in his arms, ready to teach his Herbology class, when a younger student from Hufflepuff with dove-colored hair greeted him in the hallway.

“Hi! Do I know you?” Crowley said, looking a little worried, but this was understandable. He was carrying a bag filled with illegal plants and illegal books to an illegal class. He managed to remain calm as he regarded this mysterious boy he had certainly _never ever_ met in his life.

“Yes. No. I know you. Michael from Ravenclaw recommended you to me. You see, I have this plant that is dying; it’s a Muggle Angel Wings. It’s not for a project or anything, it’s just that I don’t want it to die.” The Hufflepuff boy was chubby and had the brightest blue eyes Crowley had seen. He also had a tired but friendly smile.

“You sure I don’t know you? You seem familiar. What’s your name? Did we share a class sometime?”

“It could be. My name is Aziraphale.” Crowley dropped a book. He had heard that name in his nightmares. He had heard that name in _all_ his nightmares. His heart skipped a beat.

“Is this Hufflepuff bothering you, Raphael?” Lucifer’s voice shook Crowley from his frozen state, picking up the book from the floor.

“No, he was just asking for Herbology tips.” Crowley looked back to Aziraphale. He felt like he was seeing a ghost. “You should buy some fertilizer. Plants need food, sun and discipline, not just water. Try to not drown them and then they will thrive.”

Lucifer rushed Crowley to the Room of Requirement after Aziraphale thanked him. He would make sure not to leave Crowley alone again.

It was 11 pm when William Snakespeare found Aziraphale in the Hufflepuff Common Room. Aziraphale did what he did every time the snake appeared before him: followed it to the Astronomy Tower.

Crowley was waiting for him, sitting by a window, watching the sky without interest. Under the moonlight he looked different from how he always tried to appear to the outside world; he looked utterly sad and defeated. “The snake told me you would follow if you saw it.” 

“I did,” said Aziraphale. The snake advanced to Crowley, leaving Aziraphale alone on the other side of the tower.

“You told me you know me. Did you know him too?” he asked, holding the snake in his hand. Aziraphale nodded. Crowley’s eyes sharpened under his glasses. Suspicious, he hissed, “What elssse do you know, _Asssiraphale_?”

Aziraphale wanted to scream at the top of his lungs all of what he knew, all the memories that Crowley was missing. He also wanted to make Lucifer give Crowley back all the ones he couldn’t. 

Trying to stay calm and composed, Aziraphale took a step forward, offering his hand. “I know a lot of things. If you come with me, I could tell you all.”

“Tell me one thing and I will think about it.” Crowley aimed his wand, staring at Aziraphale with a threatening gaze. He was desperate for answers, but he wasn’t a fool. He wasn’t going to follow the first person that claimed to know something. 

Aziraphale lowered his hand in understanding. Slowly he opened the locket around his neck, and two stars brightened the room. One was a pale blue and the other a golden amber. Crowley made a reflexive gesture, moving his hand to his chest, looking for an identical necklace and finding none. Crowley walked towards the stars, in the space between himself and Aziraphale, recognizing them. He had made them. Those were _his_ stars.

“You also told me once that the Sorting Hat told you that you could be a great Ravenclaw, but also a good Hufflepuff, an odd one, but a good one. And I believe him.”

“I’ve never told that to anyone,” he said, and Aziraphale lifted his hand again, offering it to Crowley.

“You told _me_.” Aziraphale’s voice trembled slightly. The beginnings of hope arose in his heart and he could feel it pounding in his chest so loud that feared Crowley could hear it. 

Crowley shifted his gaze from the stars to the Hufflepuff student. He walked toward Aziraphale, the stars followed him obediently, the colours bathed his face making him look as if he was burning.

“Lead the way, Aziraphale.” 

“Poor boy, my son had torn your mind to pieces.” The Headmaster's hands were warm as she caressed his head tenderly, trying to decipher what Lucifer had done to him. Her touch was cautious, as if he could shatter at any moment. He only wanted to remember. Crowley beseeched the Headmaster with his eyes for an answer. “I’m sorry my dear boy; I wish I could help you, but the one who took your memories has to give them back. But you can protect your mind. Aziraphale has been studying Occlumency with me, you can learn it too, if you want to.”

But it was so late, so many memories had been erased. The Sorting Hat looked at him with pity. He had warned him in first year, _“You won’t be happy in Slytherin, boy,”_ and he didn’t listen. The Headmaster took Crowley’s hand and led him to a cauldron, explaining how he would be able to store whatever memories he had now in it, and whatever memories he retrieved from Lucifer, if he managed to do so. That way they would still be available in case Lucifer Obliviated him again. 

Crowley looked around the room at goblets, glasses and mirrors and he only saw a reflection of a face that he didn’t recognize anymore. He looked at Aziraphale, a face so familiar yet so unknown, and he felt the dissociation kicking him strongly in his gut. 

Crowley looked at his reflection into the calm blue water in the cauldron. “Aziraphale,” he said, and his voice was husky, “tell me everything I need to know about Lucifer.” 

Aziraphale wanted to do it, but at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to look Crowley in the eye and tell him. He didn’t feel strong enough for this. It didn’t matter to Crowley, he was strong enough for them both, and he needed to know. 

“Aziraphale. Now.”

It was 3 am when they finished, Crowley didn’t say a word while Aziraphale spoke. Now he just sat, calm and composed, as if all that Aziraphale told him hadn’t fazed him.

“Thank you both,” he said after a long moment. In silence, he left the office. The Headmaster held Aziraphale back, preventing him from following the Ravenclaw. 

“You did the correct thing, Aziraphale,” she assured him, “but you need to leave him alone until he decides otherwise.” Aziraphale, who had already lost him one time, watched him leave without knowing if the next time he saw Crowley he would know who Aziraphale was. 

Crowley went to his room and looked under his bed. He pulled off the covers, he pulled off the mattress. The book about Horcruxes he thought he had hidden from Lucifer was nowhere to be found. He wanted to scream, to tear the room apart. 

Crowley searched in his trunk for the invisible ink and quill he created in Fourth year, designed so that what it wrote could only be read while he was wearing his glasses, so he could prevent Lucifer and Eric from peeking over his shoulder. He remembered that and held onto that memory. He remembered that he had made that invisible ink because he had fought with Lucifer at the time. He remembered that and held onto that memory too. He tried to remember more from his Fourth year after fighting with Lucifer and found just emptiness and a tightness in his chest.

Crowley saw his Ravenclaw tie on the floor. He was a Ravenclaw, an eagle. He didn’t crawl at Lucifer’s feet as everybody in his House once thought. He was Crawly at one time. He remembered that changing his name to Crowley was the first important decision he had made for himself, the first decision that was not for Lucifer’s approval. 

He remembered asking someone, _“What do you think about the name Crowley?”_ but he couldn’t remember who. He tried to retrieve that memory but the more he tried the more it continued to elude his grasp.

He took off his pants and looked in the mirror. He wrote on his skin with the invisible ink, to remind himself, to hold on to his memories. “ _If you lose more memories,”_ he wrote on his right thigh, and _“go to the Headmaster’s office and ask her for help,”_ on his left thigh. He took off his shirt. On his temple he inspected the snake, reminding him of the oath he had made. On his arm was the nastiest scar he had ever seen, made by Lucifer’s attack so long ago. Across the scar he wrote, _“Don’t believe Lucifer’s lies_.”

_Sectumsempra._

Lucifer’s command was an inner voice that Crowley couldn’t ignore. He tried to remember when Lucifer had used that spell, but none of his memories matched the whisper inside his head. Now, naked, standing before the mirror, his eyes looked like golden pools, the blacks of his pupils nearly invisible. Crowley tried to see himself in the mirror, touching his face, running his hands across it, trying to sense if he was real. He watched himself in the mirror with teary eyes, and inscribed, just above his heart, _“Trust Aziraphale.”_

The snake on Lucifer’s temple burned, waking him up. It wasn’t unusual for him to have nightmares, but usually those nightmares disappeared when he opened his eyes. This time it was different. He tried to control his breathing, fighting the strange sensation of cold hands opening his head and digging into his brain.

“Lucifer,” Eric got up from the floor. In darkness, his silhouette resembled his Animagus, a black rabbit, fast and silent. Lucifer glared at him. “Lucifer, I have bad news. I saw him going into the Headmaster’s office with Aziraphale.” Lucifer had told him to keep an eye on Aziraphale at all times, but now the Hufflepuff managed to avoid him and connect with Crowley. Lucifer did not go to find Crowley at the Headmaster’s office. He waited patiently for him to come confront him as he suspected he would.

When Crowley walked into the Slytherin Common Room, Lucifer was waiting for him, alone in the middle of the empty room, with his wand close at hand, just in case, ready for the worst.

“What brings you to my domain, my Starmaker?” Lucifer's voice sounded as false as the smile on his face. The idea of Lucifer alone in the room waiting for him made Crowley shiver. He tried to manage the most honest smile he could.

“Would you, my Lightbearer, accept an invitation to come with me to bed?” Crowley sat on Lucifer’s lap and offered him a bottle of Firewhiskey he had brought. The Ravenclaw kissed him devotedly. 

“You are truly a tempter.” Lucifer raised his brows and drank with him. Then, more calmly and less skeptically, he led the way to his room.

It wasn’t the first time they had sex in Lucifer’s room. Lucifer only needed to enter and give Hastur and Ligur the _look_ and they just would leave for as much time as was needed, no matter the hour, just like now.

Crowley was kissing him devotedly, worshipping every part of his body shamelessly. Lucifer's body was aching for him. They were wet with sweat; the kisses were salty and messy, and Crowley was showering him with attention as never before. Lucifer finally let down his guard and wholeheartedly enjoyed it. 

“Do you love me, Lucifer?” 

“Do I need to convince you, my Starmaker?” Lucifer was hugging his neck, lying beneath Crowley in the bed.

Crowley smiled and leaned in, whispering in Lucifer’s ear, “I put Veritaserum in the Firewhiskey. I’m asking, you’re answering.” Lucifer realized that’s why his lips were burning so much.

He caught his breath. Crowley’s eyes were severe. “What a way to kill the mood,” Lucifer spat as Crowley sat up on his lap and started kissing his neck again.

“Can’t you do two things at the same time? Love me and answer my questions?” Lucifer moaned in response at the new attention he was receiving. “What have you been doing to me?” Crowley asked in between kisses.

“Do you want the list of dirty things in chronological or alphabetical order?” he mocked.

“You know, Lucifer, that I prefer obvious evasions over blatant lies.” Lucifer groaned when Crowley bit him too harshly on his shoulder. “But now, I want answers.”

“Then, be more specific,” Lucifer said bitterly and changed position, drawing Crowley to lay next to him in the bed, both bodies naked with legs intertwined, moving his hips to create more friction between them.

“My blackouts, my nightmares, and all the missing memories I have. Is that your doing?” Crowley growled in Lucifer’s ear, grabbing him by the hair with one hand, stroking him with the other and kissing every part he managed to reach. “Did you Obliviate me?”

“Yes.” Lucifer moaned in response, but not to tease Crowley. Lucifer had never felt this powerless. Manipulated, incapable of lying, and with Crowley in control of his body. It wasn’t a fair fight, but he wasn’t sure that he didn’t like it.

“Did you open the Chamber of Secrets, Lucifer?”

“No.” The good thing for Lucifer was that since he couldn’t speak Parseltongue, he was not able to open it himself, so _technically_ , he wasn’t lying. If Crowley asked if Lucifer had used him to open the Chamber only then the answer would have been yes. Luckily for him, Crowley hadn’t asked that.

“Why did you erase my memory then?” Crowley asked and Lucifer tried to ignore him. He fidgeted in the bed, trying to change positions, but Crowley stopped him, hugging him closer, changing too quickly from his accusative tone to sweeter one. “Come here Lucifer, stay with me. Tell me why you erased my memory?” 

“I can't.” Lucifer withdrew from Crowley’s embrace and from the bed.

“My beautiful Lightbringer, come back here with me.” Crowley spoke in honeyed tones, trying to calm him. “Lucifer, please…” he begged, oozing desperation. 

“Because I kept scaring you away!” he shouted. “You feared me as did every other student in this stupid school, and I couldn’t live with that, so I keep trying.” Lucifer was trembling, retrieving his wand from the floor. Crowley let him. “You thought that I was evil, and started to get away, and I missed you.” Lucifer aimed his want at him. “I’m sorry, my Starmaker.”

“I don’t think you are evil, Lucifer.” Crowley rose from the bed and bumped his chest on purpose against Lucifer's wand, grabbing him by the wrist. Lucifer stood still, and Crowley remembered that Lucifer was always less demanding with him than with other people. Crowley caressed Lucifer’s face, still holding him by the wrist. He had discovered Lucifer’s weak spot and he needed to hold onto it. “Lower your wand Lucifer, you don’t need it. Come to bed with me again,” Crowley said, with the softest smile Lucifer had ever seen on him.

Lucifer reluctantly indulged him, putting his wand aside as they kept kissing each other.

“Stop keeping secrets from me Lucifer, I want my memories back. I won’t think that you are evil.” Lucifer shook his head. His eyes were closed and his messy hair scattered across the pillow. 

“You will, you always do,” he groaned, feeling Crowley pressed against him. 

“What about this?” the Ravenclaw teased playfully, moving his fingers between Lucifer’s legs. “I will keep kissing you and you, with every move will give me back a memory.” Lucifer felt the heat and tension rise within him.

“Take my wand Lucifer, do this for me, please.” Crowley retrieved his own wand from the floor and placed it in Lucifer’s hand while holding on to it at the same time.

“Sometimes I forget how manipulative you can be.” Lucifer tried to tease him, but Crowley had the control this time.

“Says the dickhead who erased my memory so I wouldn’t dump his lying ass.” They laughed as Crowley's hands moved, and they kissed. Lucifer apologized with every move and with every memory.

A thrust, _I’m sorry_ . Another thrust, _I’m so sorry Starmaker_ . Another, _please forgive me,_ Lucifer cried out. 

When they finished, both mentally exhausted, Crowley had recovered years of lost memories. Against all odds, Lucifer had given him back nearly all his memories of Aziraphale, even of the Dueling Tournament. But not _everything_. 

“You are still keeping memories from me, Lucifer,” Crowley said, lying still with his eyes closed, feeling dizzy, the room spinning. All his recovered memories tried to fit into his brain again. 

“I can’t give them all to you.”

“It’s okay, love.”

Lucifer turned around, incredulous that Crowley was still speaking so kindly _after_ recovering his memories. Crowley smiled. “Hmm? Did you think that I was going to run away? I’m still mad at you, but I’m relieved to understand what was happening to me, to have my memories back, at least most of them, and to have you back, Lucifer,” Crowley said with unexpected tenderness and took Lucifer’s hand. “I’m not leaving, and I don’t think that you are evil, Lucifer.”

“Even after all this?”

“Even after all this. Just promise me you will give all of them back someday, my Lightbearer.” Crowley smiled and kissed Lucifer’s cheek.

“It’s a promise, my Starmaker,” Lucifer said, finally returning Crowley’s wand. 

It was the first time in months that Lucifer had fallen asleep without waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat.

Crowley didn’t sleep. 

The first thing that he did in the morning was to run to the Headmaster’s office. She couldn’t bring herself to talk to him. She left and let Crowley do what he needed, alone. He vomited every painful memory into the cauldron and cried, holding onto it as if it were the only thing on earth that was real and could hold the last bits of his sanity together.

“I suppose I should have listened to you,” Crowley said, still hugging the cauldron, kneeling on the floor, but the Sorting Hat didn’t answer. “You warned me. Aziraphale warned me. The whole goddamned school warned me. I heard all the fucking warnings and I ignored every single one. I suppose I deserved this; it's my fault.” 

_“No one deserves what you are going through kid. It’s not your fault. It’s Lucifer who is doing this to you,”_ the Sorting Hat said. _“I hope you can forgive me, if I just had put you in Hufflepuff this would have never happened to you.”_

“Don’t tell me this is Lucifer’s fault and then take it all on you,” Crowley tried to joke. He felt miserable, and kneeling in an empty room crying and hugging a cauldron while speaking to a hat wasn’t helping. At least he managed to laugh at his own disgrace. 

The second thing he did was take a shower with the water as hot as possible. His hands shook and his magic flowed uncontrollably. His skin was red from the heat. The steam was so dense that water droplets ran down the walls. He didn’t give a shit about anything anymore. His emotions overwhelmed him, and the water wasn’t washing the pain away.

The third thing he did was to find Aziraphale and hug him tight. 

After all these years of missing memories, of even forgetting who Aziraphale was, it was so necessary. He cried in Aziraphale’s arms, cried his soul out. He finally felt safe and protected. He cried all the tears he couldn’t cry while having sex with Lucifer.

“He is not evil Aziraphale. He’s just…”

Aziraphale understood that coping and mourning are not easy to do, so he didn’t argue the point, but simply held him for as long as he needed.

“Yes dear, I believe you.” But Aziraphale didn’t believe him. Crowley didn’t believe himself either. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go, and then, the epilogue. :)
> 
> Also, I wanted to thank both of my wonderful friends: Samara and Anthony, that made these wonderful drawings of Lucifer!
> 
> [Anthony's](https://twitter.com/NgkCrowley/status/1308232944893325314) & [Samara's](https://twitter.com/efimeracatarsi/status/1315266918727716864/photo/1)
> 
> Consider supporting your local artists? Thanks :)


	11. Avada Kedavra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no summary. Only pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t make Crowley angry. 
> 
> TW: Violence, panic attacks.

As the days passed by Lucifer’s circle became bigger and bigger. Crowley couldn’t stop thinking of all the times Lucifer had asked him to teach him Parseltongue, and that fucking bathroom on the second floor .

Every day Crowley wakes up and looks at the mirror, touches his face and tries to convince himself that it is his real face. Every day he says his name and tries to convince himself it is his real name. Every day he tries to remember what happened the day before and when he fell asleep. Every day before leaving his room he goes to the bathroom and repeats what was a ritual at this point.

He writes on his body with his invisible ink: _ If you can’t remember when you fell asleep / go to the Headmaster’s office and ask for help. / Don’t believe Lucifer’s lies. / Trust Aziraphale. _

Then he looks at the mirror, puts on a bland mask that concealed all his fears and anxieties _ , _ and walks out of the room. He attends his classes. He has lunch with Aziraphale and pretends everything is okay. Then, he would ask Aziraphale if he could help him unlock some memories, and Aziraphale would tell him that he had nothing else to tell him, that all his memories with him were in place.

With Lucifer, Crowley would again don his mask.  _ Everything is perfect, I still love you and I don’t think you’re evil.  _ He would take Lucifer’s hand and act as if nothing had ever happened.

Crowley had recovered years of lost memories. But how can you cope with not knowing the extent of what other memories have not been returned, and not knowing what has also been done to you when someone has ravaged your mind? How can you cope when the fabric of your consciousness has been torn apart? How can you cope with the bitter feeling of having to hold the hand or kiss the lips of the person who consciously destroyed every single bit of your sanity, just for the mere hope that  _ maybe _ he will one day restore  _ all  _ your memories.

Crowley had no more blackouts and hadn’t lost any more memories. But although years of memories had been restored, none of these could explain the nightmares he continued to have about hissing walls and a blonde figure without a face screaming in agony. Every night, the figure looked more and more like Aziraphale. If none of these restored memories had anything to do with the nightmares, then Crowley was  _ truly _ frightened of what Lucifer could do.

And Aziraphale,  _ oh Aziraphale _ . A cold shiver crossed by Crowley's spine. Aziraphale acted composed, his smile was as bright as always and he looked at Crowley with the same fond gaze that he remembered. Crowley ached for answers, to hug him and ask him what happened. He could feel the pain behind Aziraphale's eyes. Aziraphale was close to him and still so far away; the space between them felt horrific. He was kept at arm’s length in every interaction, every place they sat, every time they walked side by side. Had Aziraphale felt the same way in their younger years when Crowley tried to hide their friendship? It was nothing, and at the same time it was a universe of distance that seemed to extend farther every time a flash of silver and green walked near them. 

Aziraphale didn't ask questions, but he also didn't give him answers. He still looked at Crowley as if he had hung the stars — and who could blame him with stars still in the locket on his necklace — but would not give him what he wanted and needed to know.

They walked side by side through the hallways, and Crowley could feel Eric's stare burning at his back, cutting through his skull.

"I have to go," Aziraphale said, as they approached the Headmaster's office. "I have extracurricular classes. See you later?" Crowley smiled, as if he didn't know just what those classes were.

Aziraphale looked at Crowley with infinite fondness and at the same time with the memory of terror, the kind of terror that pushes you into the blankets at night and doesn't let you sleep as it conjures an imaginary shadow that whispers promises of death behind your ear. But this wasn’t an _imaginary_ shadow.

"Yeah, see you later, angel." 

Aziraphale smiled, but oh God, he looked so  _ tired _ . 

Crowley let him go, and as Aziraphale walked away, he wanted to drop the mask he so carefully maintained; but students wearing silver and green were everywhere around him, like snakes ready to attack, as still as stone, but also as hungry as maggots.

Every day Crowley walked with Aziraphale to the same spot, just around the corner from the Headmaster's office, and acted as if nothing was happening, but when he was alone, in the farthest, most hidden corner of his mind, he let himself crumble.

Memories flashed by without any respect for a timeline. In his Fifth year Aziraphale had disappeared at the same time as now. When Aziraphale reappeared and led him to the Headmaster’s office, he was told that Aziraphale was studying Occlumency with the Headmaster. 

But Occlumency doesn't make you able to fight,  _ and win _ , against Lucifer Morningstar. 

Memories of Aziraphale during the Dueling Tournament flashed before Crowley's eyes. Aziraphale surrounded by smoke and remaining absolutely collected; Aziraphale's magic flowing so strong against Lucifer's fire. 

_ Aziraphale blocking the Sectumsempra. _

Crowley gave a small, pained laugh. Lucifer, sitting at the table with him, raised his brow, questioningly. Crowley smiled back, trying to hide the slight tremor of his hands in Lucifer’s hair. 

Lucifer's gaze left him, and Crowley controlled himself, not gulping or sighing too loudly. The piercing anxiety twisted painfully in his chest; a viscerally acidic bile crawled up into his throat.

Aziraphale was in the Headmaster's office, preparing himself.

_ What does Aziraphale think that Lucifer is capable of? _

  
  


Crowley looked at Lucifer, who was calmly reading with the same unbothered expression he had on the day they had about read how to make a Horcrux.

_ A sacrifice,  _ they had read.

His suppressed fury threatened to escape from his mouth in a loud scream and to explode through his eyes in a furious storm. He wanted to break down and let the bland, serene mask on his face shatter into a million pieces.

_ What does Aziraphale  _ know _ that Lucifer is capable of? _

The tattoo on Crowley's temple burned with the memory of the oath. 

The scar on Crowley's arm burned. 

Crowley's memory burned.

_ A sacrifice. _

He looked up at Lucifer again.

_ What is Lucifer really capable of? _

There were holes of emptiness. Sometimes they were only hours, sometimes they were weeks. But there was the Dueling Tournament, where Aziraphale had won and had emerged nearly unscathed. And then darkness, a full week of nothing, then Aziraphale had ceased to exist for months. Not only in his memories, but also from the school. And nobody seemed to notice. And then…

_ “Do I know you?”  _

_ “Yes. No.  _ I _ know  _ you _.”  _

Aziraphale had said, looking tired, knowing very well when he reached for him that he didn’t exist for Crowley anymore.  _ “You see, I have this plant that is nearly dying, it’s a Muggle Angel Wings,”  _ he had said. It was funny, how the very first encounter happened twice. Crowley reached for where his matching necklace should have been, and he burned with anxiety not knowing what had happened to it. It was torture. Lucifer had given him back his memory of Aziraphale sitting next to him near the fireplace, hugging him on Christmas Eve, smiling so brightly at the best-friend necklaces, but not giving him the memory of taking it from Crowley’s neck or where it was now. 

And it was even worse knowing that asking was out of the question. The last thing he needed was to give Lucifer a reason to suspect.

Go to sleep reminding yourself who you are and all the memories you can recall of the day. Wake up and remember all you can of the day before. Control yourself. 

Go to the bathroom. 

_ Is this really my face? Is this really my name?  _

Go to your classes, hold Lucifer’s hand tightly, don’t let him suspect. Don’t let your guard down. 

Don’t let Lucifer grab his wand.

_ Trust Aziraphale. _

Crowley imprinted the memories he did have of Aziraphale in his mind. His memories of giving Aziraphale the pale blue star, of the mesmerized awe in Aziraphale's face, and of Aziraphale’s radiant smile—until he felt that no matter what Lucifer tried to do to his mind, these memories would be burnt into his eyes, on his retina, impossible for him to forget. 

He focused on the pride and the fond smile on Aziraphale's face when he had asked him, _ "What do you think about the name Crowley?" _ until he could feel that fond and loving look deep in his heart.

He held tight to the memory of them sitting side by side after exchanging holiday gifts, Aziraphale's arms around him, both warm from the roaring fire and the smell of cinnamon and chocolate. He watched it until he could feel the warmth of the embrace in his skin. 

Later, in the Headmaster’s office, Crowley raised his head from the Cauldron. He had searched for clues in it; he had gone over every memory Lucifer had restored. The steaming drops of water drained from his face as he tilted his face up toward the ceiling. He discovered that if he held his head back, he could restrain his tears, or at least they would become indistinguishable from the water dripping from his face. 

Crowley opened his eyes. In his rational mind he knew he could not find any more memories in the Cauldron than what he had entered before. It was begging for rest and sleep. His heart, however, unswayed by rationality, yearned to push on to try to find these missing memories. Had he ever had control over what happened around him? Certainly not, Lucifer hadn’t left him an option to consent. He couldn't bear to look at his own face in the water's reflection, couldn’t bear to look at any surface in which he could see himself. 

The Sorting Hat said nothing.

_ Go to sleep reminding yourself who you are, and all the memories you can recall from the day. Wake up and remember everything from the day before. Control yourself. Go to the bathroom.  _ Control _ your magic for Merlin’s sake Crowley, this is the third mirror you broke this week. _

_ Is this really my face? Is this really my name?  _

_ Don’t let your magic get out of your control. Don’t look at the mirror. Don’t break the mirror. _

Crack.

_ And there goes the mirror. Again. _

_ Go to your classes. Hold Lucifer’s hand tightly. Don’t let him suspect. Don’t let your guard down. Don’t give Lucifer a reason to take out his wand. Don’t look at the windows; don’t break them by accident where someone can see you. Don’t let your magic get out of control. Don’t let your emotions control you. Don’t believe Lucifer’s lies. Don’t forget to smile at Lucifer. Don’t forget the scar on your arm. Don’t forget the tattoo burnt onto your temple. Don’t forget. Don’t forget. _

_ Trust Aziraphale.  _

Don’t forget. 

Repeat.

Aziraphale and Crowley were studying in the library when Crowley’s mask finally shattered. 

He had tried to recall all his memories of Aziraphale again and again and again. He tried to convince himself that there was a good reason for his friend to avoid him, to avoid telling him what was missing, but he couldn’t take it anymore.

He was bouncing his leg, up and down, up and down, up and down. He tried to read, but the words weren’t making any sense, every letter looked different and he was incapable of concentrating. 

His mind was on the second-floor bathroom. 

His mind was on his missing necklace. 

His mind was on the black hole in his memory. 

His mind was on the nightmare of the blonde figure  _ screaming. _

“You were gone after the Dueling Tournament. Where did you go?” Crowley said in a whisper, without lifting his gaze from the book. He said it just loud enough for Aziraphale to hear and voluntarily ignore.

Aziraphale didn’t look at him; he couldn’t. Aziraphale wasn’t looking Crowley in the eye anymore, always finding a way to avoid it. 

Crowley waited, but Aziraphale said nothing.

“You just disappeared. Pop! Disappeared!" Crowley continued, a little louder so Aziraphale couldn't ignore him. He tried to not let his voice show how desperate he was, but his hands were another story, shaking uncontrollably. "You went away, and with you my memories of you.” 

Crowley gestured wildly, “And you knew it; you knew I couldn’t remember you when you got back. There were months that you weren’t  _ here _ .” Crowley’s voice broke, almost imperceptibly, on the last word. Aziraphale realized it but he said nothing. 

“Something happened angel, and you are not telling me.” Aziraphale hid himself behind his book, trying not to answer Crowley. 

The redhead grasped his hand, lowered his book and spoke. His voice was calm and gentle. “You can’t give me my memory back angel, but you can help me to understand by just telling me what happened.”

_ Trust Aziraphale. Trust Aziraphale. Trust Aziraphale. _

The words he had written on his chest burned more than the scar on his arm, more than the tattoo on his temple.

Aziraphale looked at him, finally. Crowley took off his glasses, begging.

_ Trust me Aziraphale, as much as I trust you. _

“You don’t want to know.” Aziraphale said, burying his face in his book again, and Crowley finally lost it. Crowley could even hear the pieces of himself crashing against the floor, breaking under Aziraphale’s cold words. 

Crowley snapped. 

“I think Aziraphale, that I, more than you,  _ more than Lucifer _ , know what I want to know.” 

The books on the table closed themselves with a loud blow. Aziraphale was finally looking him in the eye, _ truly _ looking at him. Crowley saw himself reflected in the clear blue sky of Aziraphale’s eyes. He looked desperate, scared, furious. Crowley’s glasses were on the table and the books had risen and were orbiting around him. His magic was getting out of control and his golden eyes were sharp and grievous. 

“I have had enough of Lucifer deciding what  _ I should _ and  _ shouldn’t _ remember. Angel, don't be like him.” he said between clenched teeth. A spectrum of light formed around him; then bright dots or colour popped out, distorting the spectrum.

The librarian came running to them but when she tried to say something Crowley froze her with a spell that he cast involuntarily. 

“Crowley you can’t do that!” 

“You can’t keep my memories away from me Aziraphale, but you are doing it anyway!” Crowley felt lightheaded and the lights in the library started to flicker.

“I did not Obliviate you, Lucifer did.”

“So, help me angel; talk to me. Doing nothing is just that, doing nothing. You’re not protecting me. I have the right to know.” Crowley was desperate, pleading with Aziraphale, grasping his hands. “ Please ,” he said, his voice broken.  _ Please, trust me Aziraphale, as much as I trust you. _ Aziraphale had never heard him so desperate. The Hufflepuff looked him directly in the eye and said nothing. Crowley crumpled to the floor. 

He released Aziraphale’s hands. He barely managed to stop himself from opening his mouth. If he opened it the scream that had been building inside these last months would never stop, and the bile burning in his throat would spill everywhere. 

Crowley forced himself to control his desperation and stood up with the aloof and calm mask in place again. “Fuck you, Aziraphale.” 

Crowley left, leaving behind a whole library of scared students, a frozen librarian, books scattered on the ground and Aziraphale alone to deal with it.

Aziraphale looked at the frozen librarian and sighed. First, he kneeled to pick up all the scattered books. He understood Crowley. Although Crowley was desperate to remember what happened that night in the Room of Requirement, Aziraphale feared for Crowley’s sanity if he knew the truth. Aziraphale himself was barely able to cope with the memories of Crowley’s void eyes as he aimed his wand at him, the room spinning and his blood seeping out onto the floor, of Crowley leaving him behind.

Then, with a wave of his wand, all the books were back on the table and the librarian was unfrozen, a little confused, but good. Aziraphale sat at the table again, opening the book to his previous location. He tried to read but the letters became blurred and unreadable as he made his best effort not to cry the tears that were welling up in his eyes. He hid his face in his book. He needed to remain calm. It was only a few weeks before the school year was over. Lucifer had remained unscathed while meanwhile he and Crowley suffered more and more each day, and he couldn’t devise any plan for reversing this situation.

Lucifer wasn't doing anything important in the Slytherin Common Room when Crowley walked in. He usually didn’t come during the day when the room was full of students, but it was only because he chose not to. Everyone in the Slytherin House was all right with the Ravenclaw coming and going, or they should be if they knew what was best for them.

“You are coming with me to your room, Lucifer.” 

Everyone was also used to seeing them go and fuck in Lucifer’s room. Lucifer just let himself be dragged.

“I fought with Aziraphale,” Crowley said, blandly, as soon as the door closed, as if he wasn't saying anything important.

“ _ Oh, _ ” Lucifer said, as Crowley pushed him forcefully against the wall, while desperately trying to undress him.

“For you,” The Ravenclaw said, taking off his dark glasses and looking relentlessly at the Slytherin. 

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Lucifer was trying to process it. This was his wildest fantasy, and he had done nothing to achieve it.

“Now Morningstar, I’m all yours.” Lucifer’s mouth was dry and he had suddenly lost all ability to talk. His cloak was lost in a pile of clothes, his shirt unbuttoned and his trousers down around his ankles. While Crowley was kissing him passionately, Lucifer made a mental note to thank every God that existed.

“Do you know what this means, my beautiful Lightbearer?” Crowley murmured in Lucifer’s ear. The Slytherin shook his head, unable to move or to think coherently. Crowley’s voice changed, from playful to stern. Grabbing Lucifer by the throat, he continued to press him against the wall. “It means Lucifer, that you are giving me  _ all _ my memories back. No matter how dark, no matter what you did. I want them back.  _ Now. _ ”

“Is that your wand Raphael, or you are just as aroused as I am right now?” He tried to joke. Crowley was fully dressed, pushing a naked, powerless Lucifer against a wall by the throat.

“Take a wild guess, Morningstar.”

“And what if I refuse,  _ my Starmaker _ ?” Lucifer said, touching Crowley’s body under his clothes, moaning the pet name on purpose.

“You forget that the only reason why you mastered the Imperius Curse is because of  _ me _ , Lucifer, and you aren’t the only one who studied the Dark Arts." 

Lucifer felt his blood rush inside him, thick and hot like molten god. "There is no way I gave those spells to you _voluntarily_.” He didn’t blink when Crowley’s wand was at his throat. A twisted but _so proud_ smile crept over the Slytherin’s face. 

“Are we really going to do this the hard way, Lucifer?” 

Lucifer left out a demonic laugh. 

“You know I like it rough, love.” He kneeled on the floor, looking directly at Crowley’s eyes. Grasping his hand he bought Crowley’s wand to his own mouth, licking the tip. “And? What are you waiting for,  _ Crawley _ ? Do it.”

_ “Imperio.”  _

And where there were dark holes, now there are memories. 

“Don’t you fucking dare to aim your wand at me, Morningstar.” Crowley said, holding onto a nightstand, one eye closed, his wand in his other hand.

“Oh? I’m not  _ my Lightbearer  _ anymore, Crowley?” Lucifer was kneeling on the floor looking for his wand. Crowley was aiming at him with his, but his legs were trembling and his head aching. All his memories were suddenly coming together in his mind.

“Not with the blood of five students on your hands.”

“I closed the Chamber,” Lucifer said sternly.

“You still attacked them, Lucifer! You made me order it,” Crowley shouted. One of those students had been transferred to St Mungo’s and nobody has heard news about him since then. Crowley could very well be standing in front of a killer. Lucifer had made him a possible killer too. He had made him open the Chamber and give the order. His hands were drenched in blood. He was wracked with guilt for attacking Hufflepuff students, and for attacking Aziraphale and leaving him drenched in his own bloo —

_ Aziraphale’s blood. _ Crowley’s world was shaken. The terrible nightmare now made sense; the blond figure had a face. And it wasn’t a nightmare. It was the cruelest memory he had, trying to unblock itself, trying to wake up inside him. 

“Am I Lucifer again, my love? Have you forgiven me?” Lucifer mocked him, pouting, still kneeling on the floor. He had already lost any sense of guilt and was acting deliberately deviant. There was nothing else he could do, except be the sadistic prick he always was. 

“I’m not going to forgive you, Lucifer. And if you try to open the Chamber again, I’d make sure to show you that I’m a better Slytherin than you,” Crowley said, furious. 

“Seal the promise with a kiss then.” Lucifer stuck out his tongue, licking his own lips, still acting like he had done nothing wrong. Crowley walked towards him and grabbed him by the hair, sealed the promise by punching Lucifer in the face. 

Crowley left Slytherin House, leaving behind the Prince of Slytherin grunting in pain, bleeding from the nose and naked on the floor.

Lucifer said the Chamber was closed, and the memories confirmed it. But he could still hear the walls hissing around him in his memories, in his dreams. Crowley walked to the girl’s bathroom on the second floor for the first time consciously and voluntarily in a long time. With every step he could hear it better, out of his own head.

‘ _ I was asssleep for ssso many yearsss, but you woke me up, Ssstar Maker,’ _ the walls whispered to him as he walked to the entrance of the Chamber _. ‘Now that I’m awake, I want blood. You enjoyed it the last time you ssset me free.’ _

“Where are you?” Crowley was standing in front of the closed Chamber. 

‘ _ I am everywhere,’ _ the walls whispered back.

“Tell me something. Is he really the heir of Salazar Slytherin?” Crowley hissed to the Basilisk’s voice, which surrounded him, crawling under the bathroom floor.

_ ‘Would you like to be, Ssstar Maker?’ _

“Answer my question, beast.”

_ ‘I don’t know. But Sssalazar would be very proud of him indeed.’  _

Crowley gave the entrance of the Chamber a long look.

_ “Reveal your secrets to me,” _ Crowley hissed, and the Chamber opened again while the huge reptile emerged from within _. ‘You ssshould not look at my eyesss boy, if you know what’sss good for you,’  _ the Basilisk hissed when Crowley took off his glasses. 

The Basilisk’s scarlet eyes glared at two golden eyes that did not make direct contact. Two golden eyes that had nothing else to lose and wanted only one thing: answers. Two golden eyes, sharp and eager, burning. Furious eyes made of melted gold that were anything but human. The Basilisk laughed.  _ ‘You call me a beassst, but you are one too, Ssstar Maker.’  _

“No more of a beast than Lucifer is.”

_ ‘Indeed.’  _ If it could laugh, the Basilisk would have done it at that moment.

“Do you know what he is planning?”

_ ‘He hadn’t told me. But someone who wanders by the walls hears thingsss.’ _

“And what are those things?”

_ ‘Do you know what a Horcrux isss? What type of sacrifice you need to make one?’ _

Crowley nodded. He remembered every word of that damned book. He remembered the dangerous glow in Lucifer’s eyes when he read the word  _ murder _ .

_ ‘Then you ssshould run Ssstar Maker,’  _ the Basilisk said, crawling back into the Chamber, and this time Crowley could swear he heard a laugh _. ‘Because Lucifer is ready to make your Hufflepuff his sacrifice.’ _

_ Rematch. Today—Morningstar. _ This was the only thing written on the note. Aziraphale read it again and again. He tried to ignore the Slytherin students in the hallways. Aziraphale looked at the note again and then the hallways filled with Slytherin students that he had never seen before and couldn’t name. 

Aziraphale tried to reach the Headmaster’s office. There were no teachers anywhere, and the stairs kept bringing him back to the same floor, the seventh, where the Room of Requirement was waiting for him. 

Aziraphale hurried. It was the first empty hallway he could find, but then he was intercepted by two Slytherin students blocking his path. Mammon and Asmodeus, wands in hand, stood before him. Aziraphale turned around and at the other end of the hall Hastur and Ligur waited. In the middle of the corridor a door materialized from the wall.

Aziraphale took a deep breath and entered the Room of Requirement.

A hex landed on his chest as soon as he stepped inside. No counting to ten this time then.

Aziraphale struggled to fight Lucifer and his spells. Lucifer had nothing to lose, nothing holding him back and so much to make Aziraphale pay for. He was intent on killing. Aziraphale was bleeding and breathing heavily, and they had been fighting for only fifteen minutes. 

Lucifer was perfect. So furious, violent, reckless: so reckless that Aziraphale couldn’t land a spell. Lucifer didn’t let him attack, let alone defend himself. 

Lucifer advanced toward him, and Aziraphale, with one knee on the floor, was sure he wasn’t going to live to tell he had fought against Lucifer Morningstar. Aziraphale was lucky that Lucifer was granting him time to breathe right now. But it was no luck, letting him breathe was the closest thing to mercy that Aziraphale could receive from Lucifer in that moment.

“You do well to kneel before me, Fell, but it won’t convince me to let you live.” Lucifer was just a couple of feet away from him, with dull eyes and an empty smile. “I won’t make the same mistake twice. I’ll watch you take your last breath and won’t leave until I’m sure that you are dead. When I finish with you, I will erase all of Crowley’s memories, and make new ones. You don’t have to worry, I won’t do it again after that, I won’t need to. He won’t have any more nightmares. I’m going to take good care of him.” His tone was too tinted with irony to be called gentle. 

Breathing was painful. His chest hurt. Aziraphale couldn’t even feel his arms. His voice was so rough from screaming that he probably couldn’t even try to command a spell. He coughed and it sounded wet with the blood in his throat from biting the insides of his mouth. He was helpless. If only he could remember the name of any spell to defend himself or counter-attack. The pain from Lucifer’s Cruciatus lingered like the smell of copper around him. 

Grabbing Aziraphale by the hair, Lucifer aimed his wand directly at his chest. The one thing Aziraphale has been waiting to do, had been training for over the last two years, was to block the spell Lucifer was aiming at him. But his arms were bleeding, and he was exhausted. He kept trying to order his arm to raise his wand, but it didn’t respond. Aziraphale closed his teary eyes, thinking of all the things he could have done better to protect his friend. Thinking of Crowley.

“ _ Avada Kedavra. _ ” 

But  _ love _ is the most powerful magic, and in his angelic heart, so full of kindness and love, Aziraphale had never taken off the necklace Crowley gave him. 

The two stars emerged from the locket and shone at full power, protecting him and illuminating the room. Lucifer’s spell crashed against the light barrier. It backfired and slammed him against the wall. As the dimness of the room was brightened by the light of the stars, Aziraphale began breathing again, tears running down his cheeks. The tears were unstoppable, and as they fell, they washed the blood from Aziraphale’s face. The barrier created by the stars was pure light, shining brighter wherever Lucifer’s spells crashed. 

“Lucifer, stop.” Crowley was at the door, catching his breath, aiming his wand at him. Running from the second floor to the seventh wasn’t easy. Using the Imperius Curse to make the Slytherin students leave the halls wasn’t a thing he enjoyed. Dueling against Lucifer wasn’t Crowley’s brightest idea either, but it was not like he had any other choice. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale smiled with the last of his energy, he looked at him with eyes inhumanly blue. Crowley smiled back, trying not to think about how broken Aziraphale sounded.

Lucifer tried to walk towards him, and Crowley remembered the last time he had been in this situation. Aiming at him with his wand, Crowley decided that no matter what Lucifer said or did, he was not going to lower his guard. 

“Lucifer, stop this. You are not as evil as everybody thinks. I know.” 

“Oh my Starmaker, you don’t understand. I’m so,  _ so _ much worse.” Lucifer smirked and aimed his wand. “Now, are we flirting or are we going to fight?” There was no way Crowley had been able to win against Lucifer in their practice fights in Fifth year, much less in a real duel now. 

“Don’t make me do this, Starmaker,” Lucifer said, irritated. “Don’t you remember what happened the last time you turned away from me? I can protect you, I can keep you safe,  _ if  _ you come with me.” 

“And who am I supposed to be scared of, Lucifer?”

“Me…  _ Bombarda! _ ” 

Crowley conjured another barrier to protect Aziraphale and himself. He needed to keep Lucifer talking just a little more. He had done the spell a lot of times himself, it was  _ his _ spell, he needed Lucifer to fail just one more time and then Aziraphale would be safe.

“I thought you loved me.” 

Lucifer’s face grew darker, “Don’t play dirty, Raphael. I actually care about you, that’s the only reason why you are not dead right now,” he said, as if Crowley’s comment made him sick. “We can be as happy as we were before. Don’t you remember how happy you were teaching here?” He said, gesturing with his hand at the place.

“Only because you toyed with my mind.” Crowley answered, hurtfully. 

“This is your last chance, Starmaker.” The Slytherin delivered his ultimatum. “Come. With. Me.” 

“You don’t own me, Lucifer.” 

“I MADE YOU!” Lucifer shouted. A column of black fire surrounded them and rose to the ceiling. “Everything you are now is because of me. The only reason that you can shine is because of  _ me _ . I am the darkness around you  _ Crawley _ , and I’ll swallow you whole.” Aiming his wand at Crowley, the lilac of his eyes disappeared, and there was only fire and blood in his glare. Crowley had only one chance.

_ “Avad-” _

_ “Asteri!”  _

There was a shattering crack in the light and the overpowering scent of ozone. Supernovae are created by the death of a powerful star. Supernovae can also bring life. This supernova was the equivalent of the rebirth of a phoenix. Death and rebirth. Gravity tilted and flashing light filled every corner, blinding light, making it impossible to see... and then, silence. 

.

Lucifer was gone; the Aurors had taken him and in a couple of days he was going to be tried. 

The infirmary felt cold. Crowley had been sitting by Aziraphale’s bed since the first day. He hadn’t left his side. Crowley looked after him, read to him, talked to him, whispered softly and soothingly when he sobbed and shook in his sleep, troubled by nightmares. 

Lucifer wasn’t in the school anymore, but Crowley could feel him every second, the tattoo on his temple burning through his skin to the bone. Lucifer's anger, betrayal, disappointment, burnin into his skin.

It had been the worst week of his life, and Crowley couldn’t take it anymore; he was tired. The last four days he hadn’t slept, and he hadn’t slept too much before that either. Crowley leaned carefully over Aziraphale’s chest. He hadn’t touched Aziraphale in those four days, but he needed to feel his warmth. He wanted to cry and to hug Aziraphale tightly and to caress his hair. He at least needed to feel that Aziraphale was alive.

“Please angel; don’t leave me alone. Please Aziraphale; I need you.” Crowley’s voice was breaking, he was holding Aziraphale's shirt so tight, holding on to him, holding on to the slow, soothing beating of his heart. He whimpered, and the sobs that he couldn’t manage to fully suppress, the tears that he tried to hold back, fell onto Aziraphale’s chest.

Aziraphale’s body moved slightly under him. Crowley looked up and met his warm smile and tired blue eyes. 

“Oh my dearest, please don’t cry.” Aziraphale’s voice cracked, his mouth was dry, and his throat ached, but his voice sounded like honey. “You saved me, Crowley.”

“Angel,” Crowley wiped his eyes and sat up straight on the chair . Aziraphale took his hand. He didn’t have the strength to grasp tightly, but his gentle touch alone and his loving gaze expressed the depth of his feeling. Crowley would give him anything he asked, would hang the stars or take him to them. 

“Come back, dear, rest on my chest, please,” he begged, and Crowley wanted to oblige. Slowly and carefully, he bent toward him.

“Doesn’t it hurt, angel?” Crowley gently stroked Aziraphale’s chest, a feather-like caress. 

“Oh, it hurts. But do it anyway, please, I need it.” Crowley obliged, careful to not hurt him. Aziraphale pulled him closer with the last of his strength. 

Crowley moaned involuntarily.  _ Warm.  _ Aziraphale’s arm around him felt warm, warmer than the memory he had recalled and recalled.

The next moments passed in silence, accompanied by their breathing and both hearts beating loudly, hard enough that Crowley would swear Aziraphale could easily feel Crowley’s heartbeat against his chest. 

“I have my memories back, Aziraphale.” It was only a whisper.

“That’s wonderful, my dear,” Aziraphale said, caressing his hair, his eyes closed. Crowley’s calm breath and heartbeat were the only sounds Aziraphale wanted to hear; and Crowley’s voice too, but he sounded so hurt. 

“ _ All _ of my memories, Aziraphale.” 

_ Oh no _ . 

Aziraphale gulped; he definitely didn’t want to talk about _ those  _ memories. Aziraphale stopped stroking Crowley’s hair. 

Crowley lifted his eyes, he wanted to say a lot of things. “I’m sorry…” The words died in his mouth. _I’m sorry for not trusting you. I’m sorry for not stopping Lucifer in time. I should have attacked him._ _It's my fault,_ he wanted to say. Aziraphale hugged him more tightly, bringing his self-recrimination to an end.

“My dear, it wasn’t your fault. Don’t apologize,” Aziraphale said, burying his face in Crowley’s shoulder. The mental image, the memory of Crowley completely helpless, aiming his wand at him with that lost and empty expression, was too much. Aziraphale wept silent tears. Crowley hugged him as tightly as Aziraphale had hugged him in the Astronomy Tower when he had nightmares, as tightly as he had hugged him when he changed his names, as tightly and protectively as Aziraphale had always hugged him. 

“You are with me, angel. You’re safe. I’m here,” Crowley whispered. Aziraphale was finally free from Lucifer’s threat, and he finally had Crowley by his side. In Crowley’s arms he felt warm and protected. Aziraphale cried the years of repressed emotions, of endured fears. He let the tears fall. He had never cried so much before in his life. Crowley was there with him, holding him, and it was the only thing that mattered.

And Crowley stayed with him, stroking his hair and whispering soft words in his ear. It took time, but the tears began to subside. A funny hiccup mixed with sobs made Aziraphale laugh, still hugging Crowley, incapable of moving away. 

“You called me ‘dearest’ before.” Crowley grasped Aziraphale’s hand and pressed it to his face, his voice barely a whisper and his face bowed, shy. Aziraphale caressed Crowley’s hair and face slowly.

“You are my dearest, Crowley.” Aziraphale pulled just a little bit away, lifting his other hand to cup Crowley’s face. The blue eyes begged for more contact. Those blue eyes were saying so much, expressive as they had always been. Crowley embraced Aziraphale, drawing his angel’s head into his neck again.

“Would you keep calling me that, angel?” Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s cheek, making him smile. His nose lingered over Crowley’s cheek before it started wandering, tracing an invisible path around his face until both noses met, until their foreheads rested against the other, until their breaths collided and both heartbeats became one.

“As long as you let me, my dearest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeey! Thank you for coming all this way. Hope you have been enjoying this ride. We are just one more chapter left. I have no words to explain how happy writing this AU made me, and there isn't enough words in the human language to explain how grateful I am for all your support and kudos, comments and reads. 
> 
> So, *Linkin Park music starts playing in the background* did you all want Lucifer’s ass to be kicked? Here you have it. 
> 
> See you next time with the epilogue. :)
> 
> oh, shit, did I told you this was a slow-burn? lol


	12. Our Side - Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just kiss already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody. First things first, I’ve been really scared to post this one, for fear that it won't live up to expectations, but so far, so good. I really hope you all had enjoyed this ride of fluff, angst and more fluff and more angst. It has been a pleasure to write it, and I can finally say that I finished writing and publishing my first long fic. Honestly, I've grow strongly attached to all of the characters, (yes, including Lucifer, my trash boy) and it's difficult to me to end this serie but HERE WE ARE. Oof, this has been A RIDE. Thank you again; your kudos, comments and support have been precious to me. I love you all, and I want to thank my wonderful beta, OctarineCat, that has been sticking with me since the first day to make this story what it is, (and dealing with my brattiness AND stubbornness). And finally, thanks for coming all this way. Enjoy!

But the story is not over yet.

Aziraphale sat in the first row, calm and composed with Crowley by his side trying to catch his breath. The room wasn't very big and he felt that the walls were closing in on him.

"Relax, I got you," Aziraphale said with a wide smile, holding his hand.

Barty Crouch, the judge, was sitting at the bench with two people at his right and two others at his left. There were at least ten more people from the Ministry in the circular room and more outside, trying to peek inside or listen. Reporters weren’t the most empathetic people, not in the muggle world nor in the wizardly world. 

Mr. Morningstar, Lucifer's father, and the Headmaster, Lucifer's mother, were seated at different sides of the room avoiding looking at each other. 

Something in Crowley’s stomach twisted in discomfort. Usually the trials were held in elegant, bigger and brighter rooms, full of people from the Ministry. This courtroom was small and claustrophobic and far fewer people could fit in. This was one of the old courtrooms that still existed to this day, used only in special trials.

But it also looked and felt private. The lack of people around them seemed only to cement that Mr. Morningstar was probably aware of the verdict too, and decided to pull some strings to at least spare his son and himself the sour shame of being known to have committed such acts.

Crowley kept shifting nervously in the chair and Aziraphale squeezed his hand. "Are you all right, Crowley?" Aziraphale murmured. Crowley wasn't feeling all right. He didn't want to be there. He wanted to get out and breathe some fresh air. 

"I–" The door opened and everyone in the room turned to look towards it. 

Two Aurors entered the room walking one Lucifer Morningstar down the hall, handcuffed and braced by guards. 

"This is… a kid,” said the judge. "Here says that..." 

"Yes,” said one Auror, giving him a new paper with the boy’s name and other information. "Yes sir. Every word." 

The judge looked at the young boy standing before him in the place where he had faced murderers and war criminals, among others. But never a child. He banged the gavel and proceeded to read with a clear voice.

"Morningstar, Lucifer... seventeen years old." He paused, looking again at the boy. "Seventh year Hogwarts student of Slytherin House. You are charged with the following crimes:

“Forming an illegal class to teach Dark Arts. Multiple usages of the Obliviate Spell. Multiple usages of the Imperius Curse. Multiple usages of the Cruciatus Curse. Use of the Avada Kedavra Curse." He paused again. A child, he thought. I convicted people for far less than this child has attempted. “Using the Petrification curse on four students, ranging from eleven to fourteen years of age and attempted murder of another, a fifteen-year-old boy. And… attempted first degree murder of Fell, Aziraphale twice, the first time by using the Imperius Curse to force another student to use a curse you designed, called  _ Sectumsempra,  _ and the second time by using the Death Curse yourself.” The judge closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He looked to his left and to his right where both parents were staring, expressionless. Then he looked at the chairs where two students were looking back at him. 

“Do you have anything to say in your defence before we proceed to examine the evidence?"

Lucifer had bowed his head while the accusations were being read. He slowly raised it, too slowly, as if it was heavy. Trying to focus his vision, he examined the room carefully. Dizzy, he felt dizzy. He took a deep breath, as if he had forgotten to do it or so it seemed. Time marched differently in his current mental state. 

"They haven't done anything." 

"Who, Morningstar?" 

"Whoever you charged along with me." 

"Give us names." 

"Why? You should already know." 

"Is he okay?" asked the judge, seeing Lucifer swaying on his feet. The Aurors shrugged. 

One of them spoke, "We gave him the same dose of Veritaserum as we give to everybody." 

"This is a kid; you can't give him as much Veritaserum as an adult!" Lucifer’s father shouted. 

"Silence,” the judge said. "Give him a chair. He is an unarmed and drugged boy, for Merlin's sake." Lucifer sat with the Aurors' help. Crowley looked at the Headmaster, sitting a couple of feet away from him. She was staring at Lucifer intensely with her jaw clenched. 

Aziraphale watched Lucifer carefully. He moved with difficulty, slowly, breathing heavily. His eyes wandered around lazily until they met Aziraphale's.  _ Sharp. _ Aziraphale was pierced for just a second with a look that was dangerously, impossibly sharp for a person who was supposedly this drugged. 

Lucifer swallowed, trying to water his dry mouth.

"How do you plead, Mr. Morningstar?" 

"To which crimes?" 

"This is stupid." The judge said, "Gave me the wand." 

The first Auror held out a long, rectangular box with a wand inside. The other Auror took it and aimed it at his own and said " _ reveal _ .” Green smoke came from the wand; in the air it formed a skull. 

"Confirmed then," the Auror said. "The last spell used was the Death Curse." 

"Is this your wand, Mr. Morningstar?" 

"Yes." 

“Can the parents confirm that this is not a trick and it’s in fact, the one you bought for him when he turned 11 years old?” 

“Yes,” the Headmaster said, with her eyes closed. She said it quickly, like pulling a bandage off a still bleeding wound. The judge turned his head to the father. 

“Yes,” he said reluctantly, glaring at his ex-wife with a sense of betrayal. 

"Have you used the Death Curse against Aziraphale Fell, Lucifer?" 

"Yes." 

"When you attacked the Hufflepuff students was it a premeditated murder?" 

"I didn't attack them." 

"Who attacked them, then?" 

"The Basilisk,” he said, smug as only he could be in this situation.

"Right,” the judge said, with an incredulous expression at the audacity of the kid. “Did you open the Chamber of Secrets and release the Basilisk?" 

"I didn't." 

Crowley shivered. It was impossible to distinguish if what he felt was rage, shame, or guilt. The very same lie. But it wasn't a lie. That's how Lucifer liked to play, that's how he toyed. Lucifer never lies. He just toys with you, deciding how much of the truth you deserve to know. And that's why Crowley was there.

"Raphael Crowley. To the stand, please," the judge said.  _ Another child _ . He looked at the papers and read these horrible spells that Lucifer had used on Crowley: Imperius, Obliviate, and forcing him to attack his own friend.  _ Poor child _ . He looked at the other one who was with him, the one who survived the Death Curse, who had been left bleeding on the floor, who was even younger than the other two. The judge wondered if at that age he would have survived what that kid endured. 

"We are going to proceed to watch the memories you gave us as other evidence. Are you all right with this?" 

"Yes." 

The judge moved his wand and the room filled with faint blue images. Lucifer was everywhere, again and again, the ethereal figure who aimed the wand at the real Crowley and said  _ Imperio _ and Crowley hissed.  _ Imperio _ , and more hissing.  _ Imperio, _ and the Chamber opened.  _ Imperio. Imperio. Imperio. _ Again and again. 

More images of a ghostly Lucifer appeared, from all directions, from different angles, all with the same hurtful expression. _ I'm sorry Starmaker, I love you Starmaker, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I love you. Obliviate. Obliviate. Obliviate.  _

Hundreds. Three years of the Imperius and Obliviate spells surrounded Crowley.

The image of Lucifer forcing Crowley to open the door of the Chamber to face the Basilisk appeared, and Lucifer ordering him _ : “Tell him to petrify kids from Hufflepuff." _ Five times.

_ “Start with a student from first year. Make Aziraphale nervous.” “Then another from second year. I want Fell to feel the fear.” “Next one from third year. Make sure he is struck down closer to the Hufflepuff Common Room, so Aziraphale feels the guilt.” “For the fourth-year student, make sure this one looks like he was attacked and not just petrified.” “As for the fifth-year student, make him bleed. You will need the blood. I want you to deliver a message for me.”  _

Then there were the images of Lucifer, raging and shouting,  _ "because I want Aziraphale dead!"  _ Then he disappeared just to appear again.  _ "Imperio,"  _ he said again.  _ "You are going to forget everything you saw here, Crowley," _ and now Aziraphale's ethereal figure was there too.  _ "Use the spell I taught you. Leave him here to bleed and come with me, Starmaker." _ Then Crowley's voice:  _ "Sectumsempra."  _

And then all the memories vanished as the smoke of which they were made cleared. The room returned to its usual dark aspect. The blue light disappeared.

"I think this is enough,” the judge said. Crowley returned to his seat alongside Aziraphale again, avoiding looking at the real Lucifer. 

"Do you want to say something in your defense, before the verdict, Mr. Morningstar?" Lucifer was quiet, looking at the floor, completely gone. The judge let him have a moment, as dizzy as he was, to process everything. 

"I'm not evil." It felt like a bucket of cold water dropped on Crowley’s head. "I just wanted to be better, to learn, to teach. I wanted to be better." 

"Morningstar Lucifer, you’re sentenced to Azkaban." 

It was done. It was final. It was the last time Crowley had to see him. He had avoided looking at Lucifer during the trial. As the Aurors took him out of the court under heavy guard, Crowley lifted his head, and he met the lilac eyes one last time. Crowley was expecting rage, hurt, revenge, emptiness, pity. Anything would be better than seeing Lucifer smiling at him empathetically. 

Crowley shook, as Lucifer was taken away, saying peacefully, "I'll miss you, my Starmaker." 

Aziraphale had to resist the urge to attack Lucifer right there. Crowley needed him more.

Crowley walked into the Headmaster’s office, empty as it always was when he needed it. The Cauldron was in place as it always was for him. But he didn’t need it today. He walked to the shelf where the Sorting hat rested. He pulled a chair and climbed onto it and took the hat from its comfortable place. 

“I have a question.” Crowley said sitting on the Headmaster’s desk with the hat. 

_ “It doesn’t surprise me,”  _ the hat responded wearily but kindly. _ “Shoot, kid.” _

“You offered me the choice between Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. But you also said to me one time,  _ ‘If only I had put you in Hufflepuff none of this would have happened.’’ _ ” 

_ “Yes, I said that.” _

“What does that mean?” Hats don’t have eyebrows, but the Sorting Hat lifted his non-existing eyebrows nonetheless. 

_ “Explain yourself, boy.”  _

“I mean, did you put me in Ravenclaw just to keep me away from...  _ him _ ?” Crowley asked. The Sorting Hat said nothing to that, it had been just weeks since the trial. One couldn’t blame the boy for not wanting to say  _ his _ name. “Do you think I really have the heart of a Hufflepuff? Or…”

“ _ Or…? _ ” 

The Basilisk’s voice came to his memories, it was a memory that kept playing in his mind. _ “Is he Salazar Slytherin’s heir?”  _ His own voice said. _ “Would you like to be?”  _ the Basilisk answered. __

“Or I am a Slytherin?” Crowley’s voice came out odd, the Sorting Hat would have liked to have arms to put his hand on the child’s shoulders and comfort him. To be torn from something that forges the personality of children from such a young age, and everybody in the wizardly world thought as an absolute irrevocable truth, was difficult. To be caught for seven years between two different Houses, to try to act like one, to disguise. Crowley didn’t have one thing that other students had: a side to call his own. Sympathy grew in the Sorting Hat’s non-existent heart. 

“ _ Look boy, did you know that your friend came every single day to this office during his Fifth and Sixth year? I’ve seen him every single one of those days. And I can swear to you that that boy is a Hufflepuff. But do you know why?”  _ The Sorting Hat leaned towards Crowley, as if he were telling him a secret.  _ “Because he wants to be one.” _

_ “Being hardworking and persistent are some of the Hufflepuff’s main traits, but if he could, he would live his life drinking cocoa and eating cake with his nose in a book. But he is brave, he had looked death in the eye and came back and looked it straight in the eye again. He called death  _ ‘dear’ _ to his own face just to provoke him. He was left bleeding on the floor to die and still came back. Godric Gryffindor would give him his sword without a second thought. _

_ “Aziraphale is a clever boy, intelligent. But you already know that don’t you?”  _ Crowley smiled, and nodded, not entirely sure of where the Sorting Hat was going with that.  _ “And in case you didn’t know it, ambition is not a bad thing to have. And ambition is not about power or glory. It’s to set a goal and to strive to achieve it. He had a clear goal and worked for it. And yes, he is kind and he is earnest. He has all the traits of all the houses. But boy, it’s not the traits we have that define us, it’s what we choose, why we make the decisions we make. He is kind because he wants to be. And he is a Hufflepuff not because he is kind but because he chooses to be.  _

_ “Now, Crowley. You chose that name, didn’t you? You have great qualities, and to answer your question: yes, you  _ could  _ be a Slytherin. And yes, I still believe you  _ could _ be an odd but very good Hufflepuff and you showed Hogwarts that you were an amazing Ravenclaw. And boy, you are brave, going into the mouth of the snake again and again, holding the hand of the demon of your nightmares. But it’s time for you to make your final decision: what is the trait that you value the most? _ ” 

Crowley looked at the hat and processed everything in his mind. He lifted the Sorting Hat. It’s layers of old leather contorted into something that resembled a smile as Crowley placed it on his head. 

_ “Hmmm, some excellent traits, boy, let’s see. Are you ready?”  _ Crowley inhaled deeply, his heart beating fast. And his answer came not in words but in an object falling from the inside of the hat. 

Confused, Crowley replaced the hat on the desk and put his hand on top of his head.  _ “I thought you would like to have it,”  _ said the Sorting Hat as Crowley regarded an old necklace he thought he would never see again. Crowley held it close to his chest, the necklace shining with strong blue and gold light against his heart.

_ “Then, what were you saying is the thing you treasure the most, Crowley?”  _

With five students petrified, one of them violently attacked and another student thrown in prison it wasn’t the best year to graduate from Hogwarts, but Crowley managed to do it anyway, and with honours. Raphael Anthony Crowley got top grades in all his classes and in the meantime had managed to teach Herbology, train snakes, forge his own spell, create stars, an invisibility cloak, a map, invisible ink and a pair of cool glasses. However he also joined a secret dark club, mastered some Dark Arts, opened the Chamber of Secrets, talked to a Basilisk, became an illegal Animagus and even survived a psychopathic ex-boyfriend who manipulated him into performing almost deadly acts and then wiped his memory of them. He assured Aziraphale that his postgraduate books were going to be _ phenomenal. _

He also decided that he was going to dedicate all of them to Aziraphale.

It was his last day at Hogwarts and in a couple of hours they were going to take the Hogwarts Express. Meanwhile Aziraphale and Crowley decided that the best way to spend Crowley’s last night at the castle that saw him grow and play pranks and overcome the darkness that threatened him through the years was to have a picnic at 11 pm in the Astronomy Tower, under the light of thousands of golden and light-blue stars. He wouldn’t want to lose the habit of breaking some rules.

“A toast to you, top of your class, and for your future  _ phenomenal _ books.” Something about hearing Aziraphale saying  _ phenomenal _ was utterly adorable. “San Mungo will be a great place having you as a healer.”

“Yeah, about that Aziraphale. I changed my mind.” It was really a little bit too late to change his mind, but he had been talking to the Headmaster the past week and she was happy to see Crowley smiling again after all he had gone through under her nose, so helping him with his career decisions was the least she could do.

“Even if it was for a year, and with no memory, and in a Dark Club, nonetheless I enjoyed teaching. And after all what Lucifer did, I think I owe this school an apology,” he said petting the floor, Aziraphale giggled. “I was a problem child from my first day to my last. I mean, we are dining under my  _ not-entirely-legal-yet _ stars at a not very legal hour either. But I wanted to do harmless mischief, not all of  _ that _ ,” he said, gesturing vaguely, Aziraphale smiled at him empathetically, caressing his hand tenderly with his thumb. Even if Crowley looked a lot better now, the guilt, the remorse, the pain, were still there. 

“I need to pay for the horrible things I let him do and I should have listened to you earlier. He was not right in his actions. But I think like him in some ways; I would encourage the students to ask, to learn. Maybe if I become a teacher, I could help students like Lucifer before they do something unforgivable. My hands are stained with blood. I can’t see it, but I feel it. I can’t let something like this happen again.” Aziraphale didn’t talk; he was looking at Crowley. He was the person Lucifer had hurt the most, and there he was, still wanting to help people like Lucifer. The Sorting Hat was right after all. 

But Crowley wasn’t one for feelings, and grinned widely, “Also, Aziraphale I realized that one year without me was going to be boring as hell for you.” Aziraphale huffed but looked at him with a gaze too fond to be really annoyed. Crowley grinned. “So I asked the Headmaster to allow me to do my master’s degree work here at Hogwarts. I will be during further study in Herbology with Professor Sprout and probably become a headache to Professor Sinistra here in the Astronomy Tower. Maybe when I become a teacher I can show her my stars.” Aziraphale's laugh was loud and joyful. He was so fortunate to have Crowley in his life.

Seeing Aziraphale laughing and smiling by his side, Crowley couldn’t understand how, all this time, he could have considered Lucifer his best friend when Aziraphale was right there. It was time to finally leave Lucifer in the past. Aziraphale was his future and was standing right next to him, ready for him. He had waited for him for so long. “Do you think I would be a good teacher, angel?”

“Dearest, I think you will be the best one.” 

_ Dearest _ sounded wonderful coming from Aziraphale’s lips. Everything Aziraphale’s lips did was wonderful. His sweet smile, his old-fashioned words that made him sound like a gay uncle who owned a bookshop, his laugh, the way he pronounced Crowley’s name. The way he said  _ dearest _ . Everything about Aziraphale was wonderful.

They sat in silence now, but they couldn’t look away from each other. Crowley had been so blind all these years. With a soft careful motion Crowley caressed Aziraphale’s hand. Aziraphale smiled. It was a slow dance of fingers until Crowley finally took Aziraphale’s hand fully. Under the light of the stars Aziraphale’s eyes were bright blue, sparkling. Crowley remembered– _ oh, how he loved to remember _ –the night when he had gifted Aziraphale his first star and how close they were. He should have kissed him then and he wasn’t going to lose another opportunity.

It was a tender and soft first kiss, chaste and respectful and so long awaited. They laughed, pressing their foreheads together, timid, still holding hands. 

“Whoa there, Aziraphale. You just kissed me? I would have never thought you had a crush on me,” Crowley joked, kissing Aziraphale’s hand softly, then he broke into a wide smile. Aziraphale just rolled his eyes, incapable of hiding his own smile. 

“Oh for God’s sake, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, exasperated and playful. He reached for Crowley’s glasses, waited for his permission, and the other nodded. Melted gold, not human eyes, met Aziraphale’s bright blue ones. He smiled and now Crowley rolled his eyes. He could even taste the honey dripping from Aziraphale’s gaze as he held Crowley’s face between his warm hands. 

“I love you so much, my dearest.” Crowley wanted to groan from how blatantly sweet and soft Aziraphale was but instead he just kissed him again. 

It turned into a more romantic kiss, as if kissing each other was the most natural thing for them to do. It was modest and affectionate. They continued kissing under the starlight. Longing to touch, they hugged, precious and intimate. They couldn’t stop smiling between kisses; they were happy and together at last. 

“I love you too, angel.”

**Fin**

Oh, wait, no, that wasn’t the end.

The two students looked quickly to the right, then to the left, then to the right again. 

"Come on, we're going to be late." 

"And whose fault is it, Adam?" the Slytherin asked. Adam dismissed him with a grin and huff, blowing a lock of his curly hair away from where it was resting over his nose.

After carefully looking back and forth Adam said, "Old Shadwell should be passing by in three, two..." and as he counted to one, Shadwell appeared, followed by a seventh-year Ravenclaw student.

“... because a good caretaker must have his eyes open, has to have all five senses sharp as a blade," Shadwell said as he walked past Adam and Warlock, unaware of them, as Newt spotted them and whispered  _ "hurry" _ to the two boys. 

"Ar' ya' listenin' boy?" He said.

"Yes Mr. Shadwell!" 

And as quickly as they had come, they disappeared, turning to the right on the next hallway, taking with them the light from Newt's wand. 

The corridor was now dark, illuminated only by the moonlight coming from the tinted windows, and silent, when Warlock said, "A race to Professor Crowley's office?" with a grin.

Adam spread his arms and shrugged, as if uninterested, "Oh no I don't know, Warlock," before a wide smile bloomed on his face, as he said, "See you there, loser," and started running with the Slytherin behind him. 

One turn to the right, Adam in the lead.

Two turns to the left and Warlock was now in the lead. 

One more turn to the left and Adam was just a couple of feet ahead of his friend, when he collided with a white figure.

There were rumours around the school about the ghost of a woman roaming the halls at night, fully dressed in white. Adam, who was a student who would roam the halls a night as much as he roamed during the day, had never seen the ghost, much less bumped into her. 

But the woman was extremely solid for a ghost. 

It wasn’t that the Headmaster was no longer in the castle, or that she had left her job. But since Lucifer, even after the students that he attacked had healed and long graduated and had left the school, she felt unable to meet with students individually, and returned to focusing on her principal job of attending to administration of the school and teachers.

Now that Crowley was a professor he was hard to get rid of. Schools from around the world were constantly offering him better jobs, but since he became a professor at Hogwarts no one could convince him to leave, not that she wanted him to go. Not to leave the school, not even leave her office when he has decided that she has been alone too many days. It was good to have him there.

He was good—not only good—but one of the best professors. He was strict but approachable, the students seemed to love him. 

And to have Aziraphale. Not that she was going to say out loud that she liked it better when Aziraphale came to visit her with tea and cookies, and she could expect a night of calm chats, instead of Crowley bringing wine and asking (or sometimes explaining) a lot of weird things. She was still trying to fully understand their last conversation about dolphins and bananas. 

The library had seen better days in terms of organisation but had never been more loved and filled with happy faces. As soon as people entered they could feel the love surrounding them. Students enjoyed being there, and that's a lot to say for a school library, and it was all due to Aziraphale, the new librarian after Miss Pince retired.

The headmaster knew that when her time to leave came, the school would be in good, capable and loving hands with those two taking care of it and its students.

"What are you up to being out of bed this late, boy?" She gave Adam a shrewd look; his hair impossibly untamed, an innocent expression that could fool someone less trained and less sharp-eyed than her. There were nights she had nightmares about eyes remarkably like these, and nights in which she missed those eyes with all her heart. "Surely not causing any trouble, I imagine,” she said, with a complicit smile.

"No, Miss. I would never." Adam said, shaking his head, trying to appear innocent. 

The Headmaster pouted. "Shame. It has been a lot of time since this school saw a good troublemaker or..." She squinted her eyes, spotting Warlock hiding in the shadows, "two. What are your names?" 

"Adam, Adam Young, from Gryffindor, Miss."

"Warlock Dowling, from Slytherin."

"Well, Adam, Warlock," a warm smile softening her face, "I think you were rather in a hurry. I wouldn’t want to keep you any longer, go ahead, and be careful."

And with that, she resumed her walk humming what sounded like “The Sound of Music,” and the two boys hurried to Crowley's office. 

  
  


_ “You don’t usually smile like that,”  _ the Sorting Hat said from his shelf.  _ “What happened?”  _

The Headmaster looked at her desk, a young boy smiled at her from a picture. Sharp eyes and innocence, and impossibly untamed hair. She shook her head. 

“I feel like I had the chance to see his eyes again.”

  
  
  


"You two are late!" Brian, from third year Hufflepuff, opened the door and rushed Warlock and Adam inside, "I’m glad that you are finally here; he is having a meltdown."

"I'M NOT!" Crowley’s leg was jumping up and down. He was sitting in the chair behind his desk and tap-tapping his fingers into his crossed arms while anxiety ran through his veins.

"You're ready!" Wensleydale said with a bright smile, admiring the braids he had woven into Crowley’s long red hair. 

"You look very pretty; don’t be nervous." Pepper smiled from the corner of the room, laughing at Crowley sticking out his snake-like tongue at her.

"Okay, everybody remembers the plan?" Crowley stood up, wiping his hands on his trousers —wondering  why his palms were suddenly so sweaty — and all his students nodded while leaving the office, surrounding him like pigeons around an old grandma feeding them cookie crumbs. 

"Oh, fuck!" Crowley cursed, already out of the office. "Fuck, you didn’t hear me say fuck. Adam, can you go back to my office? I forgot the most important thing. It's in the first drawer on the right."

“Sure! Be right back.”

Adam rushed back to the office to retrieve the little cream-coloured velvet box from Crowley's desk when something else drew his attention.

Just under the little box was a piece of paper in the handwriting of someone who likes to mess it up for the sole purpose of complicating people's lives. After two years in Professor Crowley's classes you get good at reading it or you get good at asking for your classmate’s notes. 

"I swear I am up to no good," Adam read out loud, squinting from the effort of trying to decipher the words.

Next to this, carefully displayed, was a folded parchment with big black letters. _ “Hello Adam, I hope you're ready to make some mischief. I have high hopes for you.... The Starmaker." _

Adam grinned, picking up the map and the little box before rushing outside and reaching his friends and professor.

"Come on, come on, let's go, I don't know how much more time Anathema will manage to keep Aziraphale there!" 

  
  


It turned out that Anathema had no problem keeping Aziraphale in the library. They both sat silently, reading on couches Aziraphale had brought the first week he was officially in charge of the library. A whole section was dedicated for students to get cozy while reading, that he also often used at night when no one else was there. 

"Crowley should be here at any moment now," Anathema said, finishing her tea, putting her mug on the little table between her and Professor Fell. 

Without lifting his eyes the book Aziraphale asked, "Should I be worried, dear girl?" 

"No, but it would be cool if you could feign surprise." 

He hummed, marked the page and left the book alongside Anathema's mug.

"What about this?" he said, forming a perfect  _ O _ with his mouth, fully exaggerating it, lifting a hand to his cheek. William Snakespeare, Crowley’s long-time companion, hissed at being awakened from his rest around Aziraphale’s neck.

At the same moment, Anathema snorted, the front door of the library opened very, very slightly, only wide enough children to enter, or maybe a snake.

"Hello my darlings, what are you doing at such a late hour?" Aziraphale said as Warlock, Adam and the rest of the Them sat down around him on the floor with legs crossed.

"We're here as an emotional support squad," said Warlock and the rest chimed in. Anathema nodded, watching Aziraphale expectantly.

“And Newton says hi.”

"So?" Aziraphale asked, lifting a refined brow.

"So…” they all answered, and the lights slowly dimmed, and the library was filled with a pleasant bubble of warmth. The students' smiles widened even more. Brian giggled. 

Aziraphale looked around him. Ivy started to grow and bloom on the walls. Little forget-me-nots climbed labyrinth-like in-between big angel-wings leaves, sprawling across the wall. 

He smiled at the scene, his expression softening with the love blossoming inside him. 

Crowley slithered in through the door and resumed his human form. Aziraphale’s necklace pushed against his clothes, trying to open itself. Aziraphale took it off slowly, reverently. "May I ask what this is about, dearest?” He opened it, and the two stars rose to the ceiling, meeting the other two that Crowley had released from his own necklace. Golden and blue joined over his head in a slow dance. Aziraphale tried to keep his composure, but his eyes started to blur.

"I always have been a pain in the ass when it comes to asking questions, don't you think?" Crowley said, perching on the arm of Aziraphale's couch and putting an arm around his shoulders. William Snakespeare hissed again as he lazily left Aziraphale’s neck. Crowley stuck his tongue out at him.

Aziraphale leaned against him, burying his head in Crowley's neck, one hand resting on his leg, the other on Crowley's back. 

"It’s not exactly the expression I would use dearest," he said, and Crowley laughed. 

"Course not, you're too nice to use that kind of language, but don't think I can't hear that silent _ ‘but’ _ there, angel." Brushing his nose against Aziraphale's forehead he left a little kiss there and extended his hand to Adam.

Adam instantly rose from the floor, rushing to give Crowley the little velvet box. Aziraphale inhaled sharply, looking confusedly at him and then at Crowley.

"Hopefully, you won't mind that I pop another question, angel. The  _ big _ question."

" _ Crowley _ ," Aziraphale stopped breathing when Crowley.

"Aziraphale, I love you more than I ever thought I could love someone. And every single day that passes I find myself loving you even more. Even when I had forgotten who you were, you were there for me, and I want to be there for you for as long as you’ll let me. You have been with me through it all, through all the problems and the waiting and..." Crowley paused, inhaled deeply, gulped loudly, swallowing the knot in his throat. He took Aziraphale's hand between his and raised it to his mouth, leaving a chaste kiss on the back. "and the blood an-" 

"Crowley, dear," Aziraphale cut off his spiral of unpleasant thoughts from his blood-stained youth. He carefully caressed a lock of long red hair that covered his face, lifted it off and kissed him lovingly .  "Crowley, I said once that I wanted to be with you no matter what, and that I would be at your side for as long as you let me. Would you do me the honour of popping the question so I can say  _ yes  _ and see your smile every day for the rest of our lives? Because I’ve been taking it slow for you, but if you don’t do it, I’ll take that ring from you and ask you myself,” he said with a smile.

"Angel, that is the most disgustingly cheesy thing you ever said in your life— and I’ve heard you say a lot of cheesy things—I think I just got a cavity in my tooth. You're ruining the mood." Crowley said with fond amusement hiding behind his wide grin.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Crowley," said Aziraphale, rolling his eyes, but the adoring tone of his voice betrayed him. 

"Angel," Crowley murmured, nuzzling his nose against Aziraphale’s hand, " _ my angel. _ "

"Yes Crowley?" Aziraphale giggled, leaning forward so their noses touched.

"Would you marry me?"

"It was about  _ damn time _ for you to ask, dearest." He said playfully and Crowley made an exaggerated noise at hearing Aziraphale curse. "Of course yes, you foul snake."

Aziraphale giggled and stood up, offering his hand, the other doing a poor job covering his joyful smile and the full blush that colored his face and neck and extended under his bowtie. Crowley rose with him, placed the ring where it belonged, and he where he belonged, embraced by Aziraphale in a tight hug. 

"I love you," he said, depositing quick little kisses around Aziraphale's face, making him giggle a lot more.

"I love you too, dearest."

"Good, you better do, because there are no refunds. You're stuck with me now, angel." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot resist thanking all of you again for coming all this way. Lots of love, and quick announcement, if you’re interested there is MORE angst coming in a second series. Why? Because my brain can’t seem to shut up. Be ready and think about subscribing if you’re interested in reading the second part of this story about our wonderful husbands as teachers! Could this get more angsty? There is only one way to know! Subscribe!

**Author's Note:**

> This is where I thanks my wonderful, amazing, patient and kind beta @fishdust, and all of you for reading!
> 
> You don't have any idea how amazing fishdust is, and the incredible work she is doing with me.


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